


Robin’s Requirements

by loosingletters



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Universe - Timothy Green, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Depression, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Magic, Panic Attacks, Protective Bruce Wayne, Self-Medication, Serious Injuries, Tim Drake is Robin, Wordcount: 30.000-50.000
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 14:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21649687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosingletters/pseuds/loosingletters
Summary: “The name’s Robin,” the kid said with Dick’s smirk and Jason’s accent.Bruce felt ice crawl up his veins.He was going to throw up.Robin number three wasn’t human and Bruce didn’t know how keep going after Jason’s death. They make it work (after a rough start).
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 131
Kudos: 461





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ARE YOU EXCITED???  
So! This is the fanfiction I’ve been writing during NaNoWriMo: A Timothy Green AU for our favorite Robin number 3 - Tim!  
No need to know the movie, this story is basically only inspired by it, though I recommend watching it - it’s a great movie!  
That being said, have fun with this first chapter!

Summer in Gotham was almost unbearable. The smoke and ashes lingering in the air mixed with the heat radiated from the asphalt to create an atmosphere that made it difficult to breathe or even just move in. In-between the tall skyscrapers and the houses squished into spaces much too small for them, you got the closest you could be to the experience of boiling to death without actually dying.

Winter may freeze your limbs, break away one finger after another, but summer’s heat, similar to the blast of an explosion, burned away your skin.

The summer nights appeared to be the much kinder, softer counterpart to the day time for the poor creatures who had to make their way through dark alleys.

It was a farce.

Gotham wasn’t kind, she hadn’t been in a long time.

The coolness of the darkness lulled you into a false sense of security. You were exhausted already, scared of the shadows too maybe if you weren’t used to them, or if you knew what lingered beyond them, but at least death didn’t await you in the sun’s divine punishment.

A logical but wrong assumption.

Grim hunters stalked the dark, waiting for you to slip up, to make a mistake.

Or at least, they used to be there to sink their teeth into you.

For the longest time Gotham had been protected by three guardians, _ predators _, but nowadays you only ever spotted one of them, and if you did, you were better off to slice your own throat, or so they said.

Nobody had ever attempted to deny that meetings with the Bat could get bloody, especially if you provoked him. Still, they didn’t used to look like a war zone, entrails spread over the grey asphalt as empty eyes judged you for all the horrors you committed. The Bat used to be kinder, more forgiving, more understanding.

He wasn’t anymore. He had broken like Gotham had so many decades ago.

He still protected the weak, the needy, the helpless, but he no longer fought for the damned.

Instead of being their ferryman, he brought them directly to hell. It wasn’t death, not yet, but by the time he was done, you would wish for it.

People wondered what had changed right up until the Joker nearly choked on his acid laughter in the Bat’s arms, laughing about little songbirds cut up so badly you couldn’t tell the red of their feather coat from their blood.

It made sense then that the Bat would start to lose control. Everybody knew that the little Robin was off-limits. You try to could hurt and maim him, or break him for sure, these were the rules of the streets, and if he wanted to fly through them, he had to acknowledge them, but only ever as long as the Bat was your actual target.

You did not target Robin, Gotham loved him.

(There was a price to be paid for his death.)

**X**

“Duke, honey, it’s time for bed!”

“I know, Mom! Just five more minutes!”

Duke Thomas considered himself to be a regular ten-year-old. He loved video games, Star Wars, his Mom’s cooking, his Dad’s jokes, and, above everything, Robin Spotting. It was so much fun to stay up late, hoping to catch a glimpse of that colorful uniform or hear the joyful laughter.

Duke had actually seen Robin once too, on his fire escape. The hero had smiled at him and then put his index finger on his lips, indicating for Duke to be silent. Caught up in his excitement, Duke hadn’t even been able to speak to the hero or do anything but stand at his window, jumping up and down. He had watched as Batman caught up with Robin and the duo had flown away, Robin pretty much glued to Batman’s side.

The alley beneath Duke’s window was dark and dirty, but the heroes had been able to light it up.

And now Robin was gone.

Duke couldn’t believe it.

The police hadn’t said anything about Robin’s disappearance. Duke checked the news every day when his parents weren’t watching him too closely, lest they start thinking he wanted to watch those instead of his cartoons, hoping to hear about something interesting that wasn’t economics. However, the papers had plenty to say about Robin. His Mom called them_ ‘gossip rags Duke was better off not paying too much attention to’ _, but he had read them regardless.

The papers claimed Robin was dead, said that the Joker had killed him.

Duke was sure they were lying.

Robin was magical, Robin couldn’t die.

(But the Joker rarely appeared to be human either.)

Maybe somebody just had to remind Robin that he was still needed here. Duke sometimes got so caught up in his thoughts, he forgot to do his homework. It was probably something similar for Robin

“Duke, lights out!” His Dad said when he passed by Duke’s room.

“Just one more minute!” Duke pleaded, not even looking up from his desk.

“Alright, alright.” Dad laughed. “But you have to tell me what you’re writing.”

He entered the room and stepped closer to take a look at the sheet of paper Duke had been writing on, but Duke quickly pulled it to his chest to hide his scribbles.

“No! You can’t see it! It will take away the magic.”

You didn’t show your parents the letter for Santa either, or it wouldn’t get to Santa. Of course, the latter wasn’t real, but Robin was. And honestly, there were rules about this kind of magic – his parents should know them.

Dad just raised his hands in defeat, still smiling in amusement.

“Okay, buddy, but tomorrow you have to share with the class.”

Duke frowned, unsure whether that would be enough time for Robin to get his letter.

“Later,” Duke yielded. “Once I know it worked.”

Dad’s smile softened and he patted Duke’s shoulder.

“Only one more minute, then bedtime. You have school tomorrow and I don’t want to get another call about you falling asleep in class.”

Duke huffed, but couldn’t hide his happy smile. “That was only once!”

“Once enough. Sleep well, kid.”

“Night, Dad.”

Dad walked out of Duke’s room, closing the door behind him so that Duke was staring at the Justice League poster pinned to the wood. Batman needed Robin, so Duke would remind the short hero that he had to come home.

He quickly finished his letter, packed it in transparent cover, and hid it away in his Super Secret Special box. It was actually just a shoebox he had painted yellow and orange and decorated with plastic gemstones, but Duke loved it. Then he turned off the light and crawled into his bed. Duke took his alarm clock from the nightstand and set the alarm for a few minutes before midnight. He wasn’t sure whether twelve o’clock really was the right time, but it seemed very important in a lot of movies, so Duke figured if he had to choose, he might as well go with this time. If he succeeded, he’d maybe write to the police as well, tell them how to contact Robin since the Bat-signal only worked for Batman.

Falling asleep when he was so nervous turned out to be a chore. It felt just like the evenings before his birthday when he could hear the blood rushing through his ears and it kept him awake for as long as possible.

Duke managed to sink into sleep sometime after his parents had gone to bed as well. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d drifted off right until his alarm rang again and Duke woke up startled. Tiredly, Duke crawled out of his bed and put on his socks to minimize the sound he made. He picked put the box and began tonight’s journey.

When he opened the door, he winced at the jarring sound. Even if he tried to be as slow as possible, the door refused to stay silent. Duke halted to listen if his parents still slept. His father’s snoring turned out to be a rather practical way of measuring it. Thankfully, his parents also didn’t wake when Duke stole the house keys out of his mother’s purse. With his box in hand, Duke sneaked out of the apartment and headed towards the stairs leading up to the rooftop.

The air inside the staircase was stuffy, receiving no circulation whatsoever. On tiptoes, Duke walked past the doors of his neighbors, being exceptionally careful when he passed the apartment of Ms. Norrington. She was, in the words of his usually calm and kind mother, a mean old witch, except she hadn’t said witch, but another word starting with a ‘b’ that Duke was too frightful to repeat. The old lady and her ugly little dog always watched Duke and his friend with her mean big blue eyes, especially when they were carrying toys. In Ms. Norrington’s opinion, there was nothing more terrible than children playing and having fun. One of these days, she wouldn’t even wait until Duke had made a sound, she’d just snatch his football away as soon as she would spot him. Therefore Duke needed to pass her without alarming her.

One step, another, a third and a fourth and Duke had done it. Victoriously, he rushed up the remaining staircases to the rooftop. If his parents knew that he was up here, they’d ground him for sure. None of the kids in the apartment block were supposed to go upstairs because the fence surrounding the roof hadn’t been fixed in ages and someone could get hurt or, even worse, fall off the roof when playing.

Duke thought it was stupid. He wouldn’t ever be dumb enough to fall off a house. However, that hadn’t stopped the adults from locking the door between Duke and his goal. But for that purpose, Duke had snatched his mother’s keys. His own keyring only had the keys for the front and backdoor, one for his bike and one for his Cousin’s home. His mother, on the other hand, did possess a key for the top door.

The lock was rusty and the key wouldn’t turn properly when Duke tried to open it. Duke bit on his tongue in concentration as he twisted the key multiple times until finally, after what felt like ages, the door clicked and opened.

Duke slowly closed it behind himself again, as to avoid the wind pushing it into the lock again with a loud _ BAM! _Certainly, old Ms. Norrington would wake from that. Duke would just have to hurry and be finished before she managed to get out of bed, put on her pink shoes, ugly old and gray bathrobe and made it to the door.

Gotham was an ugly city according to the news, but Duke had long since learned not to trust them. Sure, the city could be a bit cleaner, but monuments like the shining WE building or the green Robinson park in the distance were signs that Gotham wasn’t as shitty as people claimed. The breeze here up on the rooftop was quite enjoyable too. They should tell their landlord to repair the fence quickly so that Duke could play Batman and Robin with his friends up here. That would be way cooler than going to the playground. Here they would be up on a real rooftop and didn’t have to pretend the monkey bars were the top of the Crystal Palace. Thinking of his two heroes, Duke reminded himself of his mission.

He looked around for the best spot to put his letter and settled on the water tank. A short ladder was leading up to it and so, with his box secured under his arms, Duke began to climb. He slipped nearly once or twice, but always managed to catch himself at the last second.

Once he reached the top, he allowed himself to sit down just to catch a quick breath. He was working on a schedule after all.

Duke set his box down next to him and took off the cover, revealing his letter to Robin and his most prized possession: a Batarang.

He’d found it in the trash a while ago and ever since he had the supreme right to always play Batman if he wanted to. He hadn’t told his parents about it because he knew they’d take it away, even if Duke didn’t take it outside his room usually. Why would he? He didn’t want it to get stolen by others!

Duke reached for the Batarang and then traced its edges with his fingers. It was still sharp, if he wasn’t careful he’d cut himself.

Duke didn’t have a Bat-signal, but he also didn’t want to attract that much attention. He was sure that if he just scratched something in the wooden surface of the water tank, Robin would spot it sooner or later. With the sharp side of the weapon, Duke began to scratch a big R into the wood. He made sure his carvings were deep enough that they’d be seen from above.

Then, with as much might as Duke could measure up, he rammed the Batarang through his letter into the wood so that it wouldn’t just fly away when left unsupervised.

There, his work was done.

Content with himself, Duke allowed himself to observe Gotham for a little while longer, forgetting Ms. Norrington for a moment. He wouldn’t get a sight as neat as this one again in a long while.

Duke climbed down from the water tank and returned inside. He made it past Ms. Norrington’s door and slipped into his apartment and room, his parents still sound asleep and none the wiser of Duke’s little adventure.

Yawning, Duke pulled his blanket over his head. It was sad that he had to give up his Batarang, but maybe he’d get a new one once Robin returned. And Duke didn’t mind playing other heroes.

After all, now it was really just a question of time.

**X**

Beneath him, the city was wide awake, even during such late hours. He should probably return to the Cave for tonight, he didn’t have any supplies besides the one lone Batarang. While he was sure that his wit alone would suffice to support Batman, a utility belt filled with all kinds of tricky equipment would be immense support, never mind much more fun.

He was already on the move, heading home for the first time, when Gotham started screaming for help. Her shouts spoke of fear, of a terrified mother scared for her children’s safety.

Somebody was threatening her - _ who? _

Batman wouldn’t approve of it, he was sure, but generally speaking, it wasn’t his job to listen to Batman. He was there to support the Bat and, more importantly, keep Gotham safe. He couldn’t do that from the Cave.

With a wild grin, he jumped from the rooftop, executing a perfect landing on the balcony of the next house. Quickly he moved forward, making his way through the cold September air to come to Gotham’s aid.

He was Robin.

He had been born for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
I have written 12 chapters so far and I will update weekly. Hopefully I’ll have finished writing by the end of January!  
I’d love to hear what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Batman,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for Bruce's reckless/suicidal behavior after Jason's death and careless behavior with medication.

He woke up to pain. Ants crawled over his back, nails dug into his wounds, and the weight of the sky pressed down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. Bruce supposed it said a lot about himself that he didn’t even bother to look at the time or the bottle he picked up from the nightstand before a handful of pills disappeared down his throat. His bedroom was light already. By Bruce’s estimation, it was around eleven, maybe even twelve.

He’d been out late last night, hunting down what he thought might be Scarecrow’s new supply chain and he hadn’t been back in the Cave before six or so. He hadn’t been anywhere close conscious when the Batmobile had arrived home. Alfred must have gotten him out of the suit and into his bed.

Bruce couldn’t even recall the last time he hadn’t just fallen asleep in the Cave’s med bay. It was just more practical. Why bother going upstairs _(going past that room) _when Bruce could also just stay in the Cave. Alfred brought him food and everything else Batman needed was down there either way. He had no use for the life upstairs.

The painkillers kicked in.

It didn’t get easier to breathe.

Atlas’s burden didn’t lessen.

Bruce sat up and observed his surroundings. He was still in the manor, that much he could tell from the view out of the window, but he wasn’t in his bedroom.

Going by the clear view Bruce had of the pool, he was in a room on the west side, the other side of the manor. Getting him here while he was unconscious must have been a lot of work, it was a much longer walk from the Cave to the west side.

Alfred should have just left him downstairs.

Bruce pushed the soft blanket off himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He had to hand it to Alfred, he’d prepared the good stuff for him. Last night’s beating had been harsh and Alfred usually disapproved of Bruce taking their experimental pain killers with his other meds, but there was no other way Bruce could keep going. He had to move forward for as long as he could until his body finally gave out and Bruce was allowed to go.

Bruce stood up and used the bedpost to catch his balance. He remained like that for a couple minutes, or so it felt, then headed for the chair standing next to his bed and picked up the red bathrobe hanging from the back of the chair. Slowly he put it on, keen on not aggravating his wounds any further. He might not be able to feel the pain anymore, but that didn’t mean his injuries wouldn’t let him bleed out.

His bandages were still a pristine white at least, no blood sickering through. Bruce walked over to the door. If he remembered last night’s investigation completely, Scarecrow would meet his new benefactors tonight at the docks. Bruce should check the place out beforehand, bug it too maybe. He used to be faster than this. Tracking down a villain, especially Scarecrow, had never taken as long as it did this time. Perhaps he should force the Arkham staff to chip their inmates, it would undoubtedly make life easier for everyone involved.

Bruce reached for the door handle, only to pull back his hand in the last moment as the door opened and he came face to face with Alfred, who was carrying a tray with a breakfast in one hand and a suit with the other.

“Good morning, Master Bruce,” Alfred greeted, pushing past Bruce into the room, acting completely oblivious to the fact that Bruce had been attempting to leave.

It would be one of those days then.

Scowling, Bruce stood at the entrance, refusing to move. He had crucial matters to tend to, he couldn’t indulge Alfred now, but he wasn’t about to storm out of the room like an upset teenager throwing a tantrum.

“I’ve prepared a light breakfast for you. Peppermint tea and vegetable soup. You will finish this bowl and then get dressed.”

Alfred set the tray on the small table and put the suit - the Brioni. Bruce didn’t know what for. He hadn’t worn a suit in half a year, maybe longer.

“I’m not going out today, Alfred,” Bruce said. “I have a case.”

“You always have a case,” Alfred replied, a sharp edge to his voice.

Bruce narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “So? They’re important.”

“Beating a group of men so badly they could die on the way to the hospital is important? The morning papers sure had some interesting things to say about that.”

Bruce could feel the fires simmering beneath his skin. Alfred didn’t know, he hadn’t been there, hadn’t had to witness-

“They didn’t die. And you didn’t hear what they were planning to do to that kid,” Bruce replied.

“No, I did not, but I believe I know you and you are not doing yourself a favor spending twenty-four hours a day dressed as a bat.”

“You don’t understand, I-”

“Nearly flatlined thrice beneath my hands yesterday. Had you arrived at the Cave even just a second later, you would have been dead. I made a promise to your parents. You wouldn’t die on my watch and I refuse to support any matter that gets you killed any longer.”

At the end of his speech, Alfred was breathing heavily. His words echoed in Bruce’s mind.

_ Flatlined. _

_ You would have been dead. _

All of it would have been over. Just like that. No more fighting, no more struggles, no more nightmares, he’d just-

“The board of Wayne Enterprises is holding a meeting concerning the plans to begin rebuilding the Narrows,” Alfred continued. His breathing evened. “Many of your board members oppose it, and as the acting head of the company, you should attend if you want a say in how the project goes. Lucius is already busy discussing the Kane Chemical deal in Metropolis.”

With those words, Alfred turned around, marching out of the room and leaving Bruce alone with his thoughts.

Bruce hadn’t been to WE in a while. Lucius had it handled. He did well, negotiating contracts and deals and kicking out a whole lot of ignorant people and hiring some of the recent college graduates. Bruce had kept an eye on things, somewhat. He trusted Lucius, and besides, if he didn’t have to look after WE, he had more time to spend on the streets.

But the Narrows… That project had been going on ever since Bruce had taken over the company. It never moved forward because so many who could afford to live well protested against it.

Bruce sighed and sat down at the table. It was just one meeting, he could do it. Use the time to re-energize at the office so he’d be prepared for tonight. Bruce reached for the spoon and began to eat the soup.

It tasted like cardboard.

** X **

His plan had been to get in and out of the building as fast as possible using the back entrance and private elevator, but that didn’t work out. Someone spotted him in the garage and within minutes the whole office knew that Bruce Wayne had shown his face in public for the first time since the-

In a while.

The elevator had been full of over-eager people, all trying to subtly catch a glance of Bruce Wayne, hoping to discover which online article had managed to grasp Bruce’s character the best.

They’d see a non-interested man typing away on his phone, dressed in an elegant suit wearing shoes worth more than their salary, a Rolex watch, and a high color hiding away anything scandalous or exciting.

_ A secret affair _ , the newspaper would scream in the morning. _Out all night partying again!_

And if someone in heels managed to spot the make-up he had put on, they’d expect a hickey.

Nobody would think of bruises and stab wounds, ribs showing through.

Bruce Wayne, the ideal man.

Batman wanted to kill him.

He was glad when the elevator pinged and Bruce could finally escape the awkward space. The meeting had started ten minutes ago, so he was late, but not outlandishly so. It wasn’t like the board wasn’t already used to Bruce never being on time. The past decade had been filled with hasty emails, changing schedules, running into meetings late or having to leave early because he had to go to school for-

His office was on the same floor as the conference room. He passed it, and his secretary Caroline’s desk. The red-haired woman looked up in surprise when she saw him, but didn’t move from her spot.

He’d gotten plenty of cards in the past, but Caroline’s was one of the few he had actually bothered to read and reply to. Usually, her daughter would be sitting beside her right now, coloring in her art book, but Monica had started school in September.

Bruce nodded at Caroline, then moved towards the conference room. He opened the glass door and was greeted by the sight of Lucius looking one more sentence away from jumping straight out of the window.

“-and it’s not like anything worthwhile ever gets out of the Narrows!”

Sharp nails dug into the palm of his hands. Bruce wanted to throw a punch, make something, maybe even himself, bleed. He shouldn’t have come.

“Nothing worthwhile.”

The words were out of Bruce’s mouth faster than he could think. The noise made all heads turn to him, surprised faces stared at the man caught in-between the entrance.

“Mr. Wayne!” Gerry Thipson startled and immediately began to sweat.

Good.

He must be aware of how out of line his comment had been.

“We weren’t expecting you,” Thipson continued, glancing at his fellow board members.

“The funding of this project is very dear to me,” Bruce said and closed the door behind himself.

The seat at the end of the table was left vacant, Bruce’s usual absence even more present. Bruce purposefully took his time getting there, enjoying how Thipson started to shrink in his own seat.

“Never mind its importance for our city. Wayne Enterprises has always worked to improve every part of Gotham - and the Narrows need it more than every other part.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair and folded his fingers together.

“The district is criminally underfunded, the schools hardly have enough money to pay the teachers, never mind buy equipment for the students. If we’re not going to change anything, nobody will, and we’ll lose even more bright lights in those streets. Or do you think differently, Mr. Thipson?”

Thipson sat up straight as if he had heard his name at roll call.

“Of course not, Mr. Wayne. But the numbers-”

Bruce stared at Thipson. Numbers. Really.

Did he know how many homeless lived on those streets? How many children had to skip school. How many had died-

“Wayne Enterprises is a transnational cooperation that can afford to pay us quite handsomely and I certainly don’t need another yacht this year if it means getting a handful of kids through High School, or do you?”

There existed no word capable of grasping how much Bruce wanted Thipson to say another word disagreeing with Bruce. He itched for a confrontation, for a fight. But Thipson and all the other board members stayed silent, some of them smiling while the majority was carrying their rage on the tip of their tongues.

_ Trash. _

Maybe Bruce should show up at WE more often again. Just often enough that he could chase these people out of his company, out of Gotham.

“I thought so. Well, then, Lucius, how far are we actually with the Narrows Project?”

Lucius being looking through his papers, handing a couple of them to Bruce. The man’s brown eyes lingered on Bruce’s frame and for all his exhaustion, he looked relieved.

“We started with purchasing all the abandoned buildings down Napier street, but we haven’t started tearing them down yet.”

Lucius kept going, and every disgruntled sigh was met with a glare. Bruce would pay closer attention now to the people he had hired. He was well aware of what a mighty opponent greed and hubris were (and how much you pay for it) and he wouldn’t let it continue where he could and should prevent it.

** X **

By the time Bruce returned home, the afternoon had already come and gone, as, despite summer’s long-lasting heat and days, autumn quickly made itself known with its early evenings and cold. He had loosened his tie in the car and thrown his jacket on the passenger seat. The pain killers had worn off halfway through the meeting and Bruce was fairly sure he was bleeding through his bandages.

He parked the car in the garage and made his way up to the Cave entrance. He could redo his stitches and bandages by himself and he really didn’t feel like entering the manor again. Today’s trip to the office had been more than enough. Alfred was undoubtedly preparing dinner already. He’d have to eat it by himself, Bruce didn’t think he could stomach it. Nausea had been flaring up every once in a while and only water and herbal tea had actually stayed down.

At the touch of a button, a strategically placed bookcase opened to reveal a hidden passage. The manor had many of these secret paths built into it. His father used to tell him that they had been constructed for emergency evacuations or swift servants that shouldn’t be seen. It had been easy enough to add another entrance to the Cave to these passages.

Bruce rarely took the main entrance to the Cave nowadays. It was ridiculous anyway, sliding down a pole like a child.

As usual, the Cave lit up as soon as Bruce stepped inside and all electronics powered up. It didn’t take them longer than one uniform change to be up and running. Time, Bruce knew, was essential. One second too slow and you watch your life-

Bruce headed for the med bay. He took off his shirt and while the bandages were still a neat white at the outermost layer, taking that off revealed red fabric. With iron discipline, Bruce unwrapped his whole torso and then used the bandages to put pressure on the bleeding wound as he fetched himself needle and thread. Combined with another dose of painkillers, sewing the wound shut was much easier than going to WE today. Bruce examined the wound below his ribs and scowled. It would most likely scar and he wasn’t sure he had the patience to deal with Alfred’s disapproval once he noticed.

Once he was finished treating himself, Bruce took his seat in front of the computer, reviewing the information he had gathered in the past weeks. He already knew the deal would go down at the docks tonight, but he’d been unable to pin down which one of Scarecrow’s minions would be there for the exchange. They were all probably on the other end of seriously dangerous. Scarecrow hadn’t been out of Arkham for long, which meant he hadn’t had the time to train his minions properly or earn enough cash selling his Fear Toxin to Gotham’s underground. All his hired goons were going to be too scared of Scarecrow turning on him to actually risk their lives for the job.

Bruce continued researching the meeting place, relistening to the audio files he had acquired while getting stabbed in the ribs. He replayed them once, twice, and nearly a third time, but his common sense stopped him. There was only so much you could gather from such a short exchange as he had listened to.

Satisfied with his gathered intel, though it would have been significantly better if he had gone out this morning too, Bruce headed for his suits. He walked past the Case and for the first time since he had put it up, he didn’t freeze up but could continue his path.

It felt like progress, or something similar enough to it.

He did a quick inventory for his utility belt, restocking batarangs and knock out gas, then changed into his suit and got into the Batmobile. Out of his rear window, he could see Alfred entering the Cave.

Bruce didn’t stay long enough to see what kind of expression the butler made.

** X **

Batman left the Batmobile parked down at the shores of one of the rivers running through the city. It was hard to spot it there, but the car could still reach him fast enough if needed. He had another two hours left before the deal went down, which gave him enough time for another small patrol.

The City Hall district was known for its white-collar crimes, nothing Batman could really reach with his fists. Nevertheless, it was never as silent as tonight. It made Batman frown, discontent settled deeply in his chest. Gotham was never silent or calm or peaceful. This ugly city couldn’t rest, not even for a night and yet…

There was something in the air Batman couldn’t pinpoint and it put him on edge.

As the time of the deal drew closer, Batman crossed the rooftops over to the docks, checking out the area. After checking that nobody interesting was lingering outside of the warehouses, Batman began heading for the right one.

The hired goons he had spied on had said they’d meet up at the very end of the long strip, in one of the warehouses the big families used to cover up their drugs. Scarecrow didn’t usually deal with the crime families, choosing to pick less dangerous targets. He must have been desperate for money. Finding a way into the building was easier than Batman had expected, so he searched for a strategically smart place to sit and wait.

It took roughly an hour before anyone showed up. Expensive suit, cheap cigarettes, and slicked back black hair - Maroni’s youngest, his friends carrying two bags. Money, it had to be. 

Maroni didn’t work with any of Gotham’s proper villains. He regarded them as rude annoyances with no honor to speak of. This must be a solo trip of the youngest then - was he trying to steal his older brother’s spot as the heir or establish his own leverage?

Batman didn’t have to wait for long for the next group to arrive. As expected, Scarecrow didn’t show up with many people, merely two guards wearing gas masks.

“Scarecrow,” Maroni began to speak. “I thought we had an agreement.”

“We did,” Jonathan Crane replied. “I’m just not going to stick to it. Now!”

Far quicker than Maroni’s boys could raise their guns, Scarecrow’s men threw modified smoke bombs their way, releasing the fear gas.

Batman put on his rebreather, covering his mouth, and jumped down from his hiding spot. Maroni began to scream once they spotted him. They still had their guns and it was too late to neutralize the effects of the gas, he had to work quickly.

Batman rushed in, grabbing the first one and breaking his arm. His gun dropped to the ground. Then he reached for the next one, shattered hand. Number three he knocked out with a punch to his right temple. Maroni himself he pushed to the ground face first, kicking away his gun in one swift move.

“Batman! Get him!”

Scarecrow’s men both jumped Batman at the same time, far too skilled for random street thugs. Maybe Scarecrow had had more cash hidden than Batman had assumed.

The Rogue in question, meanwhile, was getting away with the cash.

Batman snarled, but he couldn’t shake the two attackers away quickly enough. He’d lose Scarecrow and there was no telling what he’d do with so much cash.

Then, red blurred at the corner of Bruce’s eyes and something threw itself at Scarecrow. The man crashed to the ground, money going flying.

He tried to get up again but was stopped by a kid, dressed like a traffic light, jumping on his back.

His rebreather must have stopped working, Bruce thought. He’d inhaled some of the gas, he must have.

“You- you’re- You’re dead!” Scarecrow screeched. “The Clown said so! Who are you?”

The kid shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ kind of way.

“The name’s Robin,” the kid said with Dick’s smirk and Jason’s accent. Bruce felt ice crawl up his veins. “Always has been, Straw man.”

He was going to throw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked this chapter as well!  
Bruce is... a hot mess.  
Well... time to get better!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm shifting my updating schedule to the weekend as I'm too busy during the week! Enjoy!

He had a hard time pinpointing where exactly he was supposed to go. He combed his way through the City Hall District and, while he was at it, stopped a robbery, caught a group of college kids with way too many fireworks, and helped an old lady with her groceries. Though he couldn’t claim to have done the later out of the good of his heart. An old woman seemingly all alone buying things at one in the morning in Gotham was more than just a little suspicious, but thankfully she turned out to be just a regular kind woman.

Robin continued on his way until he finally spotted something _interesting _near the docks. There, hidden by the shadows, Scarecrow was getting out of a van, accompanied by two tall men, wearing some kind of protective gear. Probably against the fear gas. Scarecrow was a strange villain.

All of Gotham’s Rogues were freaky, of course, and surprisingly well-educated as well, but the way Scarecrow operated didn’t fit with the others’ MOs. Physically speaking, Scarecrow was weak. A determined nine-year-old with a grudge could take him out, which made him vary of about everybody stronger than him. Therefore, Scarecrow giving two men who could break his back like a little stick protective gear and access to his only weapon and defense, the fear gas, was widely out of character for him.

Robin frowned and got a little closer to the edge of the balcony he was sitting on, hoping he could catch some bits of their conversation. With the tools in the Batcave, this would have been so much easier, but _no_, Robin just had to go check out Gotham first. If Batman wasn’t going to chew him out for his recklessness before, he’d certainly do it now.

“-steal the cash, got it?” Scarecrow said.

His two goon nodded.

“But, what if Batman-“

“Not so loud!” Scarecrow interrupted the man and glanced upwards.

Robin quickly ducked and hid behind the balcony’s railing.

“The Bat got eyes and ears everywhere,” Scarecrow hissed.

The notion of fear in the chemist’s voice made Robin grin. Damn straight did Batman have his informants everywhere. While the people who actually supported Batman weren’t the majority, a lot of desperate people didn’t mind helping the dynamic duo out if the two of them could guarantee for the informant’s safety, or get them cash or a better job. Kids especially were a great help. People tended to overlook them, disregard their wit and worth. Gotham’s children knew not to fear the Bat and all of them adored Robin, so of course they helped. Besides, the Bat always made sure you got into a good home or found a better shelter at least. Not that Batman wouldn’t do that regardless of their help, but the kids trusted them more quickly if they thought their safety was something they had managed to earn themselves,

“And I don’t fucking need to run into him today. I saw what he did to Two-Face last month and it’s no secret the Bat got a soft spot for Dent. I don’t want to know what would happen if the Bat ran into me. Or do you two idiots want to get beat up?”

Silence fell over the alley beneath, then Robin heard Scarecrow say, “Good.”

The men must have nodded. Too bad, it would have been nice to get some more easy intel from them.

Robin watched as they started walking out of the alley and into the direction of a Maroni warehouse. How curious, Robin thought, Maroni usual stayed clear of the Rogues. He’d even helped apprehend some of them at times, providing information on their hideouts. Maybe Scarecrow was here for revenge?

Either way, when dealing with Crane, one couldn’t be careful enough. Robin waited until the three men definitely couldn’t see or hear him anymore, then got down to the van. Cracking it open was a child’s play and sure enough, the entire back was filled with concentrated fear gas and a couple masks to protect you from them. Robin grabbed the translucent mask that looked like the smallest and put it on. It was a little ill-fitting and smelled of dog-breath. Ew. He needed to get Batman level rebreathers ASAP. At least the mask only covered his nose and mouth that would make it easier to communicate.

Robin made his way up the fire escapes again - even after all these years people still forgot to look up when searching for Batman or Robin - and followed the trio as silently as a mouse, gliding over rooftops and only touching the ground once there was no place left to swing to.

The trio entered the warehouse, causing Robin to curse under his breath. He needed to search for a better viewpoint. He ran to the side of the warehouse and eyes the drainpipe leading up to the top. Just slightly below the roof, a tiny open window was waiting innocently for an equally short hero.

Robin rubbed his hands together victoriously and began to climb up the drainpipe. This night was only getting better and he hadn’t even caught Scarecrow yet. Batman and Commissioner Gordon would be impressed to Mars and back if Robin managed to pin the villain by himself.

Sure of his success, Robin hurried up the pipe and squeezed through the window - and not a minute too late it appeared.

“-not going to stick to it. Now!”

Scarecrow was shouting and a gunshot rang out. Robin scrambled forward, trying to get closer to the scene but wooden boxes obstructed his view. He had to hurry if he wanted to stop this from escalating.

“Batman!” Robin’s heart skipped a beat. “Get him!”

Batman was already here - of course, he was! Robin pushed through the boxes, hurrying in excitement instead of worry now. He got past them quickly and then his training immediately took over.

_ Assess the situation, Robin. _

Maroni’s guys were down already, injured but not dead. Batman was fighting Scarecrow’s men. Scarecrow was running towards the exit of the warehouse with black bags.

_ Don’t jump in too soon. You’re smart. Wait for the right moment. _

Scarecrow would pass Robin, run just beneath the staple of boxes Robin was sitting on.

Perfect.

_ Work fast and efficient. Don’t waste energy and don’t hesitate. You got that,-? _

Robin jumped.

He flew high in the air and landed on Scarecrow, his weight tearing the man to the ground with a scream. The two bags opened, money dropping out of it. There must be a couple thousand in there by Robin’s estimations.

Scarecrow turned his head to look at Robin and going by the way he froze up, he was probably getting pale under his mask.

Ha! Served him right for thinking he could mess with Batman and Robin!

“You- you’re- You’re dead!” Scarecrow screeched. If he could, he’d probably point accusingly at Robin. “The Clown said so! Who are you?”

His mentioning of the Joker really made Robin want to bash in his face. Couldn’t he go one day without that mad man ruining everything?

And honestly: Robin, dead?

Ridiculous! Robin was magic, more than just a regular kid in a mask. Not wanting to show his annoyance, Robin just shrugged.

“The name’s Robin,” he reminded Scarecrow, smirking. “Always has been, Straw man.”

Usually, they used knock-out gas to take down their opponents, but Robin was a little short on everything.

Well, a nerve pinch worked just as fine.

Happy about their victory, Robin finally jumped off Scarecrow’s back.

“So, what do you say, B?” Robin asked. “Good end to a good night?”

Batman didn’t reply. He just stared at Robin, unmoving, frozen like a statue.

“C’mon, B. I know I was a little reckless and I shouldn’t act on my own and’ _fighting crime without your utility belt is as good as a death sentence’ _but I did pretty well, didn’t I? Oh, remind me: We need to secure a van full with fear gas. Don’t know what Crane was carrying that around for, nevermind how he got all of that stuff, right B?”

Robin stopped his ramblings to look at Batman, see what he had to add to all of this, but Batman still wasn’t reacting at all.

Robin blew a raspberry and walked over to Batman, who only then reacted by taking a step back. Carefully, Robin held up hands to show he was unarmed.

“Woah, Batman, everything alright?” Robin asked, worry seeping into his voice.

Batman seemed so out of it, what was going on? It wasn’t like his partner to be so freaked out-

“Hey, B, you know what you’re seeing isn’t real, right? It’s just the fear gas. I promise you, everything will be alright in a couple minutes. Let’s just go outside, okay? Get some fresh air.”

Batman’s shoulders were still tense, but he didn’t sink back into himself any further.

“-not real,” Robin heard him say. “It’s not real, he’s not real- fuck.”

Robin had some guesses about what, or rather who, Batman was seeing, but now was not the time to address it.

“That’s right,” Robin said instead and took another step closer to Batman. “He’s not real.”

A second step followed the first, then a third and one more and so on until he was standing in front of Batman and held out his hand.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

Batman just stared at Robin’s hand.

“Not much exposure,” Batman muttered and promptly pushed past Robin.

“Hey!” The Boy Wonder shouted. “No need to be rude! I’m just trying to help!”

Batman continued on until he came to a stop in front of Scarecrow. Without much regard for his condition, Batman grabbed him by his collar and dragged him out of the warehouse. Robin huffed in annoyance. If that really was how Batman reacted to a low dosage of fear gas already, Robin didn’t want to know what it would be like when he got a full dosage sprayed directly into his face.

Robin shot the Maroni thugs one last glance, then followed Batman quickly. They didn’t have enough evidence to get them a proper jail sentence, so it would work out just fine calling the Commissioner from the Batmobile.

“Where are we taking Crane?” Robin asked Batman once he had caught up with the older man’s long steps.

Batman eyes him warily - not that Robin could see his eyes, he just knew what that particular head tilt meant, and replied only slowly.

“We- I’m bringing him to Arkham. Give the place a look over and see how he escaped.”

Robin sighed dramatically. “Can’t we just drop him at the police station like always? I want to go home. Aaaand I also don’t have any weapons on me. No batarangs or knock out gas or grappling gun. I kind of really need to restock.”

Batman mustered Robin, and then, suddenly, he dropped Scarecrow and before Robin could react, he pulled the boy into a hug, startling him.

“Batman! What the heck! I promise I’m alright! Nothing’s hurt, I swear!”

But Batman wouldn’t let go of Robin either way, just cradling him carefully like Robin was made out of glass and would disappear the moment Batman let go of him.

“I’m fine, Batman. Stop worrying!” Robin pouted.

Then, only hesitantly, Batman let go of him, only to run his gloved hand through Robin’s pitch-black hair.

“You’re fine,” Batman said, almost wistfully.

“Yeah, I already said so, B.”

Batman let his gaze linger on Robin a little longer, then he picked Scarecrow off the ground again and marched into what Robin assumed was the direction of the Batmobile.

Batman really was acting strange tonight. Robin needed to inform Penny-One of it once they reached the Cave. Maybe Batman had gotten a concussion.

The walk didn’t take long when the Batmobile came cruising around on autopilot. They put Scarecrow in the backseat, this time sedated with a narcotic, and tied his legs and hands together.

Robin doubted Scarecrow would try to do something when he was so obviously outmatched, but it could always be that he had hidden some fear gas on himself - wouldn’t be the first time - or was only pretending to be asleep. Robin was pretty sure that nobody could fake snoring so well, but Scarecrow, due to his experiments, was immune to many of the usual narcotics. So were quite a lot of the other villains, especially Poison Ivy.

The drive to Arkham was surprisingly silent. Of course, Batman wasn’t the chatty one of the duo, but he usually quizzed Robin on the night’s events, just to make sure Robin had known what he was doing. As far as he was aware, nothing terrible had happened before they apprehended Scarecrow either. Batman didn’t want Robin working bad cases, though that didn’t mean that Robin wasn’t aware of them, and Batman couldn’t keep Robin shielded from all the pain in the world.

“I helped an old lady with her groceries,” Robin began to say instead. He didn’t really care about what he should be doing right now as long as he was cheering up Batman at least somewhat.

“I thought she was a little strange at first, but she turned out nice. Even gave me a piece of chocolate and yes, I remember what you said about accepting food from strangers, but I had already made sure she was harmless, so it was no big deal. Anyway, I saw her…”

Robin tried to fill the silence with sound, even if his stories weren’t as grand as usually.

Batman didn’t seem to mind. He just stayed silent and listened.

They drove over the bridge leading to Arkham Island. From far away already, Robin could see the high walls of the main complex towering over every other building. Nobody should have gotten out of there as easily as Scarecrow had.

When they finally reached the island, they had to stop in front of a gate where a lone guard was reading comics.

Maybe it wasn’t so unlikely that Scarecrow had gotten out.

The one guard looked up in surprise, hastily dropping his comic to reach for his walkie-talkie.

“Batman’s here,” he said. His eyes widened in surprise when he spotted Robin sitting on the passenger seat. “He’s here with-”

“Scarecrow,” Batman interrupted.

He got out of the Batmobile and yanked Scarecrow out of the car, perhaps a little too forcefully.

“He’s sedated,” Batman growled. “Make sure he doesn’t get out again.”

The guard barely had any time to scramble out of his booth and get a hold of Scarecrow.

“Y-yes, Sir!” The guard replied and saluted in front of Batman.

Now _that _was a new thing. Robin giggled and hid his mouth behind his hands, unnecessarily really because the guard and Batman both looked at him.

“Eh, sorry.”

Without another word, Batman returned to the car and set in the autopilot to head for the Batcave. Robin eyed Batman worriedly. Batman didn’t look so tired that he’d need the autopilot.

“Did you get hurt tonight?” Robin asked, serious for once.

There were moments that Batman and Gotham needed Robin to be its joy, but right now wasn’t the time.

“Not more than yesterday,” Batman replied.

“Penny-One will be disappointed.”

Truly, the butler hated it when Batman decided to disregard his own health. Of course, Gotham needed its heroes, but not at the cost of their own health.

“You should take it easy, B. I can drive us home too.”

Robin made grabbing motions for the wheel, and Batman half-heartedly pushed his hands away.

“Not until you’ve got your license, Jay,” Batman muttered, his voice on the edge of slurring.

Robin dropped his hands in defeat and leaned back in the passenger seat. If not for Batman’s injuries, he would have kicked the man.

“It’s Robin,” he insisted.

Batman chuckled. It was a harsh sound, like he hadn’t done it in a while and was trying to figure out what tone he usually used.

“Alright, Robin.”

Barely twenty minutes later, they arrived in the Cave. The ride had been smooth, the streets hadn’t been so busy. Robin was the first one out of the Batmobile. He stretched his arms first, then fell into a bridge to stretch his back. Despite all the action tonight, he felt stiff, like he hadn’t moved in ages.

“You okay?” Robin asked Batman.

The older vigilante got out of the car painstakingly slowly. Robin was seriously off his game if he hadn’t been able to see just how exhausted and injured Batman was. This couldn’t happen again. What if Scarecrow had had another ace up his sleeve and attacked them again?

Robin was good - duh, otherwise Batman wouldn’t let him out on the streets - but he could also only fight so many opponents before he was overwhelmed.

“Let me help you,” Robin said and rushed to Batman’s side. He made Batman put his arm around Robin’s shoulder and helped him over to the med bay.

“This is nothing a little sleep and hot chocolate can’t fix,” Robin assured.

Penny-One’s post patrol care package was the best in the world. Nothing else could come close, Robin was sure of it.

He helped Batman get seated on one of the cots they kept in the Batcave and began searching for painkillers and one of the pills that helped against a low exposure of Fear Gas.

The cabinets were stocked, but Robin had a hard time finding what he needed. It was like someone had changed the arrangement completely. This was the reason you should never ever change anything. How was he supposed to find the pills now?

“Urgh, where did we put them?” He mumbled. “Sorry, B, looks like we gotta wait for Penny-One.”

Batman just nodded. He hadn’t even started on getting out on the uniform.

“I can still help you with the bandages.”

Batman didn’t like it when Robin had to treat his injuries, but this was an emergency. They were partners first, and Batman always looked after Robin. That should be true the other way round as well.

Batman sighed, he didn’t have the fight to argue with Robin.

He slowly peeled off his suit while Robin grabbed the bandages. At least those were still in the same spot.

They were halfway done with taking the old bandages off, exposing a rather horrid fleshy mess Batman shouldn’t have been on patrol with in the first place, when Robin heard footsteps approach.

“Master Bruce, are you there?”

“Over here, Alfred,” Batman spoke up.

He wasn’t exactly loud, but Penny-One must have been close enough to them to hear it.

“Thank God, you’re coherent still.”

Penny-One entered the med bay from the right. He was holding a tray with a cup of tea and a small bottle filled with pills Robin was unfamiliar with.

“I was already afraid-” Penny-One stopped speaking. His hands trembled and the whole tray fell to the ground. The hot tea splashed everywhere, a few drops even got onto Penny-One’s expensive shoes and pants, but the man didn’t seem to care.

He was staring straight at Robin like he was looking at a ghost.

“Who are you?” He asked, his voice unusually pressed.

Robin turned left and right, but seeing as there was nobody else, he assumed that Penny-One was talking to him.

“Uh, me?” Robin asked and pointed at himself. “That’s a good joke. It’s Robin, remember?”

Penny-One very obviously didn’t remember as his stance immediately shifted. Subtly only, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was ready to attack Robin any second.

“Bruce, who is this boy?” Penny-One asked again.

Batman looked at him in bewilderment, before his eyes slowly drifted to Robin and then back to Penny-One.

“I-” Batman began to speak, only to hesitate and start anew. “You can see him as well?”

Somehow, that wasn’t the reassuring answer Robin had hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, the last scene was one of my fave to write.  
I hope you liked this chapter as well!  
And thank you so much for your lovely comments!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays!  
This is the last chapter of 2019! Enjoy!

Bruce knew he was messed up. He’d been a weird kid even before his parents had died, interested in the most macabre topics, playing games whose rules only ever made sense to him. Afterward, something already irreparable in him had cracked like a mirror.

For the longest time, he had been convinced that it couldn’t get any worse. It had been the truth too for over a decade as Bruce grew numb on the bad days and paralyzed on the worse days. Losing Dick had been terrible, but Bruce had no one but himself to blame for that separation, and Dick, despite everything, was still alive, happy and healthy. He was surrounded by his friends and thriving from what Bruce had been able to see. Even if Alfred disagreed, Bruce was sure that it was nothing short of a miracle that Dick had turned out to be such a good man. He sincerely doubted his own influence.

But then he’d had to bury Jason. His son, not even sixteen yet, not old enough to drive, too young, too bright, too innocent-

His child was _dead_.

And it turned out Bruce could shatter all over again, even worse than before. The mirror shards dug into his skin, leaving wounds that refused to heal or be patched up. They tore him up from the inside, made him choke on blood-

He had dragged Jason into this life and instead of himself, his son had to pay the price.

Bruce was well aware that he wasn’t dealing with it in any shape or form. He had gone to therapy in the second and third month, maybe, but this wasn’t anything like the situation after his parents’ death. He had to lie and lie again to keep the truth, that horrible secret which had actually murdered his son, away from prying eyes.

So Bruce had decided on his meds and stopped making appointments.

He hadn’t had any reason to question Robin’s appearance in his field of vision. It wasn’t unusual for Bruce to see Jason out of the corner of his eyes. He was fairly sure Alfred had guessed by now that something wasn’t quite right with him, but then again, he had never really been.

The fact that he hadn’t immediately headed for the Cave when Robin appeared said enough about his thought process. Bruce had been fighting Scarecrow. He couldn’t remember the last time he properly did an inspection on all his tools. It had just seemed so logical that his hallucination would take the form of Robin, Dick and Jason’s version of the Boy Wonder clashing into one another.

And somewhere deep down Bruce had been glad that he could see Robin again. This fake image of his sons, chatting away with no care in the world-

He hadn’t gone for the antidote because he’d wanted to stay in bittersweet melancholy just a little while longer.

But now his dream and reality were crashing into each other in the worst possible ways. He had compromised himself and the mission, because of his weakness.

“I- You can see him as well?” Bruce asked Alfred, who nodded slowly.

His throat was dry and he wished he still had his utility belt, a weapon, anything he could use against the intruder wearing his children’s colors.

“Hey!” The imposter spoke up. “What are you talking about?”

Bruce and Alfred shared a look and then, in practiced synchronicity that had long since become instinct, Alfred rushed at the imposter, pushing him into Bruce’s arms.

The fake had no time to react. As soon as his hands were within Bruce’s reach, he grabbed his wrists and twisted them.

“Ouch! What are you-”

The imposter’s complaints were rendered mute as Bruce pushed him into the cot he had been sitting on before. Alfred, meanwhile, had already gathered the handcuffs even Bruce had a hard time getting out off and put them around the imposter’s wrists and ankles.

Only when that was done, Bruce allowed himself to step away from the fake.

Bruce had trained himself to fight whenever he was confronted with life’s horrors. He wouldn’t freeze again as he had as a child, or run away like a teenager. It had taken ages to shift into the proper mentality, yet all he wanted to do right now was curl up and hide away in one of the deep dark shadows where nobody could reach him.

Alfred glanced at Bruce, the subtle shift in his stance showing that his former profession as an Interpol agent was at the forefront of his mind, not the role of a worried parent.

Bruce would be thankful if it didn’t mean that he might have become too weak to handle this confrontation in Alfred’s eyes.

Alfred was assessing whether he was a _liability_ to have around right now.

What a cruel twist of fate.

“What the heck, B?” The imposter shouted. “What are you doing?”

“Who are you?” Bruce asked instead of answering.

“Me?” Robin looked up at Bruce in disbelief. “You’re really asking- I’m Robin! The Boy Wonder! Your partner! Did something happen, Batman? Look if it’s residue from Scarecrow, we just have to get you the antidote-”

“You’re not Robin,” Bruce replied.

But he looked exactly like them. From his betrayed expression, as much as his green mask allowed to show of it at least, to his tone of voice. It was somewhere right in-between Dick and Jason and pulled on all of Bruce’s heartstrings.

It didn’t help that the intruder looked like a kid as well. Innocent, helpless, angry and scared - Bruce doubted that he actually was a kid, but he played the role well.

“A shapeshifter? Magician?” Bruce slammed his hands down on the cot right next to the imposter, causing him to jerk upwards.

“Answer me!” He roared.

The kid stared at him and slowly pushed out his chest, putting on an admirable shade of bravery.

“I’m _Robin_. And as soon as I get out of here, I’ll figure out what messed with your and Penny-One’s brains. Trust me, Batman. I can do it.”

If needed, Bruce could react harsher. He definitely should be. Someone had managed to fool him for roughly an hour, maybe more. The fake was familiar with the way Batman and Robin operated, he knew their tactics and technology - hadn’t even stopped to question was the Cave was like or the civilian identity Bruce had exposed.

Whoever Bruce had in front of him, they were a risk and they were good.

Bruce should use any means necessary to get the truth out of the intruder.

But he looked like a child.

Bruce’s children.

_He couldn’t._

“I have a syringe,” Alfred said.

His oldest companion was standing at Bruce’s side still - or perhaps again, given that he was holding a syringe and one of the quick scanners they used for fingerprints.

“We should take off that mask first and see if he’s registered in our system yet.”

Alfred didn’t move until Bruce stepped aside, making room for the man.

The imposter observed them critically like he was waiting for a tell or a sign of weakness.

“I’m telling you, I’m Rob- _hey!_”

Alfred had jammed the needle into the fake’s bare arms. Once the syringe was full, he took off the imposter’s gloves and registered the fingerprints, all in one swift movement.

“Here,” Alfred said and handed both items back to Bruce. “You can check if they’re in the system.”

The implied _now_ was more than obvious, but Bruce had no intention of leaving until he’d seen who exactly had tricked him. Alfred seemed to pick up on that, as he only sighed when Bruce didn’t move.

“Well, then. Let’s see what’s hiding behind your mask.”

The imposter leaned back as far as he could when Alfred reached for the mask.

“No touching the mask!” He protested. “You can’t take off a hero’s mask that’s against the rules. Hey! Are you even listening to me?”

Alfred got his hands on the mask and began to pull, but the item wouldn’t move. It stuck like it had been glued on.

“It seems like I need to get a solvent for the adhesive,” Alfred concluded after several seconds of pulling.

“I’m telling you, you can’t take off the mask!” The imposter shouted. “It’s impossible! It’s a part of me!”

Alfred only raised his brow.

The imposter’s words must anger him more than Bruce had thought.

“For now we ought to shut your mouth then,” Alfred concluded and, out of nowhere or so it seemed, he pulled a second syringe and stuck that one into the imposter’s bare legs. A clear liquid entered the fake’s body.

“A fast-acting, long-lasting sedative,” Alfred explained. “This should give us a couple hours.”

Before Alfred had even finished his sentence, the intruder was already dropping forward, knocked out.

“Don’t worry, Master Bruce,” Alfred said without taking his eyes of the imposter. “I’ll take care of him. You try to see what we have on him.”

Bruce nodded sharply and turned to head towards the computer. Behind himself, he could hear Alfred gathering the imposter, probably heading towards the holding cell.

Right.

Alfred was going to do his part of the job, so Bruce should do his.

Running the scans for the fingerprints was straightforward and didn’t take long as no possible matches showed up. However, that only made things more complicated because it meant that a new player was on the board. Batman had forced the other Justice League members to start taking fingerprints of all of their own enemies too. If none of them had anything on him, they had either worked sloppily, or this imposter was now part of Batman’s Rogues Gallery.

Bruce set up a new file while the computer ran the blood analysis. Depending on how complex the sample was, this could take up well up to a few hours.

Bruce should update his technology. It couldn’t be that something as significant as a blood analysis took so long.

In the meanwhile, though, he should try to recover as much from his injuries as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I like to call this chapter "Bruce knows he's not okay and Alfred knows and nobody should be doing anything Batman related but Robin is there to have A Really Bad Day."  
Also! With this chapter, I have officially posted 100.000 words of Batman fanfiction this year. Cool, right?  
If you like to watch me make the Batfam suffer, if the next three days go according to my schedule, I'm gonna post a quite angsty (and longer) One-Shot called "I Measure Every Grief I Meet" on New Years!
> 
> See you all in the next decade!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter 0f 2020! Neat!

When Robin woke up, he was still wearing his mask - well, _duh_, he wouldn’t be Robin without it, would he? - and Penny-One and Batman were both staring down on him. On the one hand, Robin was still in a holding cell. On the other, Penny-One was holding a tray covered with all his favorite snacks for him.

Batman wasn’t wearing his cowl or any other item from his uniform, but instead, he was dressed in the comfortable clothes of Bruce Wayne. The bags under his eyes seemed even more prominent than they had yesterday and Robin hadn’t thought it could be possible to look even more tired.

“Are you okay?” Robin asked him for what felt like the hundredth time in the past 24 hours, if so much time had even passed. Maybe Robin had only been knocked out for a couple hours.

Batman flinched in that almost invisible way of his: shoulders rolling while he lifted his chin. For those that didn’t know, it looked like he was just upping up his intimidation level.

Robin knew better.

“Kid,” Batman started. “Who are you?”

That again. Honestly, were they still caught up in whatever memory charm had gotten to them?

“As I said before, I’m Robin-“

“We know,” Batman answered.

His admission sounded like a confession gained after a rough torture session. It was a half-truth spoken to save your remaining piece of sanity. Robin smoothed his expression to keep his ideas to himself. Batman was keeping a secret so it was only fair Robin didn’t voice his thoughts either. He would figure it all out and save his partner.

“We’re wondering who you were before that, lad,” Penny-One said and pushed the tray with breakfast into Robin’s cell.

Robin titled his head in confusion. “I’ve always been Robin.”

While Batman sighed, Robin dug into his food. Pancakes with chocolate Sirup and strawberries.

“Alright then, Robin, what is your oldest memory?”

Now that was a difficult question. He remembered Robin’s first real patrol easily. He had been leading Batman all around Gotham on a wild goose chase and started New Years early with a couple fireworks at the harbor.

But his oldest memory. Well, he supposed…

“Running patrol yesterday night,” Robin answered truthfully.

“What.”

“Yep,” Robin replied and started licking the leftover chocolate from the plate. HE hadn’t even noticed that he was hungry until he had started eating. “Up and at them. I know I should have gone to the Cave first but-“

“Stop,” Batman interrupted him. “If tomorrow is really your oldest memory, your first memory, how do you know about the Cave?”

“It’s cause I’m Robin. I have to know about this and the other safehouses, the gadgets, codes and passwords… I can go on if you want?”

Penny-One and Batman shared a look again, hours of discussion passing in-between them in a split second. It annoyed Robin that Batman had completely different tells when he talked to Alfred. Robin couldn’t get a good read on him.

“The clone theory seems more likely,” Penny-One said. Mentally Robin ticked the box with the heading Congrats! You’ve been out of commission for more than just a few hours!

“More likely than what?”

The duo in front of him turned to look at him and- _oh_. Wait.

“I’m not a clone!” Robin protested. “You can’t seriously be thinking that”

“It’s the most logical assumption,” Batman said. Whether he was reacting to Robin’s words or replying to Penny-One was unclear.

“Though, that still doesn’t explain the information leak. Genetic memories can’t be transferred in such an active way, information has to be taught, which means we still have a leak.”

“Not! A! Clone!” Robin shouted, but the two men obviously didn’t believe him.

What was he supposed to do? He needed to convince them that he was the real deal and not a clone, a fake or an imposter. They should trust him. Being disregarded so quickly, especially after the great team up at the beginning of the last night, made his chest feel much tighter than it was.

There must be a way to convince them!

“I’m telling you!” He said. “I’m Robin. Gotham gave me my Requirements and then I started fighting! It’s as easy as that!”

Batman frowned, sharp blue eyes mustering him with a calculating look.

“Who gave you what?”

“Gotham,” Robin repeated. “She gave me my Requirements. I can show you them if you want to?”

Seeing as Batman didn’t react, Robin pulled off his shoes, showing off his not so bare feet. Black ink curled around his ankles, beautiful cursive words were tattooed into his pale skin.

“See?” Robin said. “My Requirements.”

“Dear lord,” Penny-One muttered to himself. “Did they brand him?”

“Those are your requirements?” Batman asked, pointing at the dark words.

“Yep!”

“Read them out.”

If the situation weren’t so serious, Robin would roll his eyes at Batman’s paranoid behavior. His partner would be able to read them just fine if he came closer. Robin wouldn’t hurt him. Never. It was his purpose to protect and support Gotham and the Bat.

“One,” Robin began to say. He knew these words by heart. He didn’t need to read them. “Robin has to be smart and cunning. Two, Robin has to be as brave as a lion.”

_ Three: Robin has to be cheerful and funny, always telling the best jokes and making everyone smile. _

_ Four: Robin has to be strong. He needs to be able to carry the Bat and all of Gotham’s troubles. _

_ Five: Robin has to be the Boy Wonder. He has to be magic. _

_ Six: Robin has to come back. If he’s not in Gotham, he can’t be Robin. _

After reading out all his Requirements, Robin looked at Batman, who was carrying a strangely grief-stricken expression.

“These were given to you by _Gotham_?” Batman repeated.

Robin shrugged. “Yeah, I just woke up with them and then I went to look for you.”

“You woke up? Where?”

The constant questions were frustrating as hell and Robin congratulated himself on not getting snarky with Batman but staying professional.

“On top of an apartment complex in East End,” Robin answered. “I could spot the WE main office from afar. I could lead you there if you want to check out my story?”

Robin knew he wasn’t playing fair, but he also hadn’t been taught to fight like that. In a real war, it hardly mattered if you acted honorably. Your opponent would just use it against you. This wasn’t war, but arguing with Batman always came close enough to it to make it count.

“Alright,” Batman said after a moment, while Penny-One hissed “Master Bruce!”

“Awesome!” Robin shouted and jumped up.

Finally they’d get to do something productive and move forward. The longer Batman was concerned with Robin, the more time did they lose for going after really important criminals, like Maroni for example!

“Batman, have you figured out yet what Maroni wanted with the fear gas?” Robin asked as Batman opened the door to the holding cell. “Oh, and do I get things for my belt now? Cause I’m pretty much out of everything. I’m going to be a liability like this.”

“You’re not going to do anything at all except lead me to the place you woke up at. And I’m still investigating Maroni.”

Robin crossed his arms. “But what if you or I get hurt? I need first aid stuff at least. And one Batarang. I can’t do any harm with just one of them.”

“If you’re really Robin-” Batman looked like he had just been forced to bite into a lemon. “-then you will be able to do enough with one that you’re not getting one.”

That was fair, Robin supposed. He would be pretty dangerous with a Batarang. But he also really wanted to keep the one Gotham had gifted him with.

“The Batarang I brought with me, can I keep it?”

He saw Batman muster him skeptically and open his mouth to reply in what surely would be a denial, so Robin quickly explained.

“I mean to keep it here. It was already there when I woke up and I don’t want to lose it.”

“Acceptable,” Batman agreed.

Penny-One eyes him warily and it didn’t take a genius to see that he’d prefer it if Robin stayed in the cell without any weapons. It was understandable, Penny-One was the one responsible for ensuring that the Cave was a safe space. To him, Robin was still a threat. Hopefully, that would change after tonight.

If it even was night. How long had he been out?

“What time is it?” He asked as he followed Batman to the uniforms.

“Ten.”

“In the morning?”

“Night.”

“I slept for a whole day?”

“Yes.”

Batman couldn’t see Robin’s annoyance as he was walking in front of him, but that didn’t stop Robin from making faces at him. Batman was never the most talkative person, but he hadn’t been this taciturn before.

They passed a glass case with a half-destroyed Robin uniform and Batman hesitated like he wanted to stop, only to force himself to keep walking. When they reached the shelves where they held the suits, Batman tossed Robin a bright yellow belt.

“Only a first aid kit and a grapple.”

Robin nodded and fastened the belt around his waist as Batman finished dressing.

“Done?”

“Yes!” Robin replied enthusiastically, but his excitement fell on deaf ears.

“We’re taking the car.”

Trying to stay positive, Robin cheered and, without much thinking, began to run towards the Batmobile. He jumped on the hood and slithered across it to his side of the car.

“C’mon!” He shouted. “Time’s a-wasting!”

Batman still didn’t hurry up to Robin’s disappointment, but he did stalk towards the Batmobile like a man on a mission.

“See you later, Penny-One!” Robin shouted out of the open window as they took off.

Opposed to their first drive to the Cave, this one was surprisingly tense. Robin couldn’t see Batman’s knuckles but he bet they were white considering how tight Batman was holding the wheel.

Batman also didn’t say a word, so Robin opted for staying silent as well. Annoying a Batman who wasn’t even convinced he was sitting next to his partner was never a good idea.

So Robin began drumming his fingers on his legs, staring out of the window and watching the scenery go by. Only when they finally entered East End, he actually dared to speak up.

“Three blocks further, I think.”

Batman didn’t move in any way that indicated he’d heard Robin, but after three blocks, he turned right into a tight and dark alley.

They had proper hiding places for the Batmobile all over - a result of Jason Todd stealing its tires - but sometimes good old fashioned shadows worked as well.

“Can you lead the way from here?” Batman asked.

Robin snorted. “Can you keep up?”

Batman stared at him expectantly and probably not at all amused.

Right. Wrong time for jokes.

“Just follow me,” Robin muttered and ran towards the next wall. He used his momentum to propel himself upwards, reaching for a fire escape.

From there, it was easy to aim his grapple and pull himself towards the rooftop.

Batman was close behind him as Robin turned around for a while, orientating himself.

“Over there,” he finally said, pointing towards the large water container he saw a couple houses over. “That’s where I woke up.”

He looked at Batman, waiting for approval, and when he didn’t say anything speaking of disapproval, Robin started running into the direction of the water tank. Crossing Gotham’s rooftops was always a fun activity as much as it was a challenge. You had to be careful about where you stepped so you wouldn’t slip or accidentally fall three stories, but also stick to a fast pace. Everybody, with a little training, could walk across rooftops. It took skill to do so in a high-speed race, potentially hunting someone, or being the one chased.

The first gap, Robin could easily jump over. The next, he crossed by kicking down a ladder, creating a bridge for himself. Washing lines also proved to be a helpful item, but fire escape steps were by far his favorite aid.

Batman stayed only slightly behind Robin, unusual for him. Usually, he’d be further back, but perhaps he didn’t trust Robin’s abilities.

Oh well, sooner or later he would.

With how stubborn the Bat was, it would probably turn into a question of later, but Robin tried to stay optimistic.

He wasn’t in the holding cell anymore, Batman and Penny-One - well, maybe more Batman, but still - trusted him enough to let him into the city and Robin got to chase through Gotham’s nights.

He’d been born for this.

There wasn’t a single thing he could imagine doing that would bring him just as much joy as this.

The last gap to cross was bigger than the previous ones, but Robin didn’t worry. He jumped and, mid-flight, he shot his grapple gun, which caught onto the fence surrounding the rooftop. He let the gun pull him up and elegantly landed at the top.

“Ta-da!” He said once he arrived and bowed to an imaginary audience.

Batman had used his grapple as well, but by the time he was lurking behind Robin again, it had already vanished into one of his many pockets.

“This is it?” Batman asked.

“Yup, this is it. I woke up standing on top of the water tank.”

Batman immediately inspected the tank closer. It was made out of wood, one of the older ones, and that was about the only remarkable thing Robin could see.

Batman, however, apparently saw more as he traced something on top of the tank.

“What is it?” Robin asked.

He didn’t expect Batman to answer, but his partner hesitated only for a moment.

“Robin is carved into the wood. Definitely meant to be seen from above. Tell me, did you really wake up right here or was this just the place you first gained consciousness?”

Robin tried to think of the answer but he honestly couldn’t recall. He was pretty sure he hadn’t been anywhere else before waking up here.

“I definitely became conscious here. I heard someone talking to me… No, there was a letter. That’s where I got my Batarang from. Someone had stabbed it through a letter.”

Robin turned around. He hadn’t read the letter, hadn’t needed to when it was clear what he was here for, but Batman might have some use for it.

“I think it was a page torn out of a- there!” Robin pointed at a white sheet stuck between the ground and the fence in one corner of the rooftop. The wind was gently pulling at its edges and the moment a stronger gust of wind came along, it would be gone. Quickly he ran over to the paper and carefully pulled it out of the dirt. It was already pretty dirty, but the writing was still legible.

Batman was right next to Robin now and held his hand out for the paper. Wordlessly, Robin handed it over.

Batman skimmed over the letter, or maybe he even read it entirely, he ought to be a pretty fast reader with how many case files he devoured every day, and then pocketed it.

“We’re going back to the Cave,” Batman said.

“Already?”

Batman didn’t bother to reply, he just headed back into the direction they came from. Sighing, Robin followed his grumpy partner. Though, even if Batman would definitely scold him for it, Robin still made a short stop on the opposite rooftop. From there, he could see a kid with big bright eyes staring outside the window, his gaze fixated on Robin.

Robin smiled and waved at the kid before continuing on his path.

They were almost back at the Batmobile when Robin heard a woman scream. Driven by instinct, Robin halted and turned into the direction he heard the cry come from. Batman was reacting even faster than Robin, already descending into the alley below and crashing onto a man.

While Batman was busy with the attacker, being much rougher than he usually would, but who was Robin to judge when Batman didn’t even trust him, Robin took a chance to scan the area. Seeing as there were no further dangers, he landed silently beside the poor scared woman.

“Hello, Miss,” he greeted her softly.

The poor woman twitched, though girl might be a more apt description. With how short her skirt and shirt was, the height of her boots and the now smeared make-up, Robin had guessed she was older from above.

“I’m Robin,” he said and tried to keep his body language as open as possible. For a vigilante as himself, it was difficult to actually keep an open stance when he always had to be vigilant, but Robin was confident he was a good enough actor to fake it.

“I know,” the girl answered, voice full of awe, and promptly started to hiccup. “You’re back.”

“Of course! I couldn’t leave Gotham for long, now could I?”

The girl’s back was turned to Batman, but Robin could see his partner quite clear. He seemed to be done for now, but they should call an ambulance for him either way.

“What’s your name, Miss?”

“Mandy,” she answered. “I’m Mandy.”

“Woah! Really?” Robin gasped theatrically. “Did you know that Mandy is my favorite name?”

Mandy giggled, but soon enough, the soft sound of bells turned into ugly sobs.

“Hey, hey, no girl carrying my favorite name can cry when I’m around!” Robin said and took a step forward. “Can I touch you, Mandy?”

Mandy only managed to nod, but that was good enough.

“Awesome,” Robin said. Slowly he took her hand so that she’d see what he was doing. “You’re super brave, do you know that? I’m pretty sure you’re the bravest person I met today and I’ve been around Batman aaaaall day. Maybe he won’t be so grumpy for the rest of the night then when he knows Gotham has such brave people here. I made some pretty good jokes today and Batman hasn’t been able to appreciate them properly.”

Gently, Robin steered Mandy out of the alley into the more open street, all while rambling about his day - or an abridged idealized fake version of it that didn’t resemble the actual day at all. Well, he’d get there in the future once everything was back to normal.

Robin talked about how much he liked Gotham houses, that patrols in summer were the best and fall and winter always sucked because it rained way too much and everything got way too slippery.

He mentioned how fast the Batmobile could go and that it had a cup holder because of chicken soup related incidents.

When they reached the end of the alley, Mandy had calmed down considerably again.

“Do you have a place to stay, Mandy?” Robin asked at the end of his speech.

“Y-yeah. It’s just around the corner. I only wanted to go home fast because I was done for the night and the street’s a short cut-”

Before Mandy would start crying again, Robin let go of her hand and jumped up, falling into a cartwheel.

“Congratulations!” He cheered, confusing her intentionally. “You just won tonight’s jackpot: Robin, the Boy Wonder, will accompany you home free of charge. Bonus points include cheep bird puns. Kno-Wing a couple of them is pretty easy, but executing them fowl-essy takes real skill.”

Directed by Mandy, dropping one terrible pun after another, Robin made sure she got home safely and smiling. Two older girls opened the door for them and, just like Mandy, when they saw him, they looked like they had come face to face with a ghost.

“Good night, ladies!” Robin managed to tear himself away from them after five minutes of thankfulness and fussing.

When they closed the door behind them, Robin let out a breath he hadn’t noticed holding. He glanced above and sure enough, Batman was watching him. Robin flashed him a smile and aimed at him with his grapple, then he soared upwards.

“Did you take care of the guy?”

“... Yes.”

Robin gave his partner a thumbs up. “Good! Mandy made it home safely too, so I guess we’re going back to the Cave now?”

“Yes.”

Batman turned around, but before he rushed off again, he muttered something so low Robin hardly heard it.

“You did well.”

Robin beamed and his ankles tingled warmly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Your comments are seriously the best, they always make me cry!  
Writing Robin as he is here is really a lot of fun :D
> 
> If you all would like some real angst though, I've got my new One Shot [I Measure Every Grief I Meet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22070698) for you. It's a role reversal AU in which Bruce dies in Ethiopia, but Jason survives.
> 
> See you all next week!


	6. Chapter 6

_Dear Robin,_

_My name is Duke and I’m 10 years old. I don’t know if you remember but you waved at me once! You’re super cool, but all the newspapers say you’re dead, but the news lie all the time so I’m sure they’re lying this time as well. I’m writing to you because I want you to come back to Gotham. It’s not the same city without you. We all miss you. Some of my friends in school said they would become Robin if you didn’t come back but that’s stupid. _ _Robin is special because:_

_You’re super smart or you couldn’t fight criminals_

_Robin is the bravest kid I know_

_You’re also always smiling and tell great jokes! I try to always smile for my parents but I can’t._

_You’re stronger than anybody else except Batman._

_You’re magical or you wouldn’t be able to just turn up everywhere obviously._

_My friends go on vacation sometimes, and I guess you’re on vacation right now as well, but you’re not supposed to. Robin has to stick to Gotham or he’s not Robin._

_Anyway, I really hope you come back. I will be waiting at my window for you. If you’re not too busy, could you please wave at me again?_

_Thank you very much. (Mom said it’s polite to end letters this way.)_

_Kind regards,_

_Duke Thomas_

**X**

Bruce hadn’t been sure what to think about the letter when he had read it for the first time. The aspects of Robin little Duke Thomas talked about matched up to the damning requirements inked on the imposter’s- Robin’s ankles. He’d send a copy of the letter to Alfred immediately, had him check out Duke Thomas.

Duke was a quite regular kid, ignoring his little stunt a couple years back when he thought of challenging the Riddler, but that only spoke of bravery and loyalty to Gotham. He had two loving parents and attended one of the better public schools.

All of the puzzle pieces fit together, but not quiet. Duke was a normal child, how was he tied into this? Or was somebody else just using him as a cover-up for a darker operation?

Bruce had hoped the DNA analysis of Robin’s blood would be enough to figure out who or what he was, but they hadn’t actually done anything but confuse Bruce even more.

Robin being a clone had seemed like the most likely theory, but why would anybody go through the effort of collecting DNA from Bruce, Dick, and Jason to combine it into one? Bruce couldn’t think of anyone who had the resources to do so as well, except maybe Ra’s or Luthor and the former had never cared much for Bruce’s sons and the later was more likely to create a clone of Superman than anything Batman related.

So for now, Bruce was stuck with a child that apparently wasn’t older than two days, had all of Robin’s skills, some of Dick and Jason’s memories and a mask that nothing could get off.

Bruce was reasonably sure the inevitable panic-attack would happen in a couple hours, but by then he would be safely back in his room in the manor. On the drive to Gotham, Bruce hadn’t dared to watch Robin more than he had to, but on the way back, he kept glancing at the child.

He had done good work distracting the girl in the alley, and even while Bruce was aware that he only looked so much like Robin but wasn’t either of his sons, Bruce had difficulties staying in the present.

Robin shouldn’t be tired, he’d slept for too long and had barely been up, but the way he curled into the seat of the Batmobile, using his own cape for comfort, reminded Bruce so much of his sons, it hurt.

He needed the child gone.

He wanted him to stay.

He had to get answers.

Entering the Cave again was a relief. Alfred was already waiting for them when the two of them got out of the car, but the company he kept was more than unexpected.

“Zatanna.”

His dark-haired childhood friend waved, smiling mischievously. He hadn’t seen her in a while. Hadn’t seen most members of the Justice League in a while. Their company way jarring, knowing there was nobody to return to or keep track off while he was busy with them. Nevermind all their pitiful looks. They had all lost someone before and it should be easy to go to them, but Bruce couldn’t.

He hadn’t been fast enough, not the hero he was supposed to be, and they hadn’t either, but their mistakes hadn’t cost them their children.

“Hello, Bruce. It’s been a while.”

Zatanna was wearing one of her stage outfits. A long black robe and a pumpkin-themed dress hugged her frame loosely. It was a more recent costume, he thought. The fact that he wasn’t exactly sure when he used to know her wardrobe by heart made him uneasy. He had always known. First because she had kept pestering him about it as a teenager, later because his sons were so thoroughly fascinated by her magic, she had kept coming around, crashing at the manor more than once to ask them about their opinions.

He hadn’t thought so much about his children in a long while. He had managed to go through two weeks without thinking about Jason or Dick once, just functioning like an automaton.

Now they were everywhere again.

“What are you doing here?”

He didn’t mean to sound so harsh, so cold, but he couldn’t help it. It was for the best if she left again.

“I was in the area and Alfie invited me,” Zatanna replied and reached for the cup of tea that had been floating beside her.

Bruce recognized it as part of the fine china set they kept upstairs that Alfred didn’t allow in the Cave. He kept his mouth shut about it.

“I called her shortly after you left. I ran some scans on-” Alfred’s eyes flickered to Robin, who had gotten out of the car by now and was watching Zatanna curiously. “-Robin’s Batarang. It showed signs of magical influences.”

“Magic,” Bruce repeated.

He hadn’t even considered magic as an option. Gotham attracted all kinds of odd folk, but usually Blood took care of them. It was part of his contract with the Justice League Dark and a couple more deals with only Batman, ensuring Gotham’s safety should the League fail. But since the Justice League Dark as a whole was apparently Bruce’s so-called pet project, it was also Bruce’s job to keep them in his sphere of influence. Not that anyone but Blood actually took that seriously. Constantine was doing whatever he wanted pretty much the whole time unless it got actually dangerous.

Zatanna acted like she hadn’t heard him and picked up where Alfred had stopped.

“And then he called me and I arrived just when your letter came. You’ve really managed to find something special there, haven’t you, Bruce?”

And with that Zatanna flew over to Robin, who looked up at her in awe.

“Hello, little Shade. It’s nice to meet you. You’re one cute little Robin.”

She held out her hand and Robin almost stumbled over his own feet, hurrying to shake it. A white glow emitted from their joined hands and Zatanna closed her eyes for a moment.

When she opened them again, she was smiling even wider than before.

“As I thought,” she said. “You really are a Shade. A quite powerful one too. Haven’t seen a shade in a decade, never mind one as strong as you.”

She playfully tugged at his black hair, then squished his cheeks.

“You’re gonna do great.”

Robin nodded slowly, his cheeks red.

“What’s a ‘Shade’?” Bruce asked.

He hadn’t heard of such beings before.

Bruce was tired of waiting, he had done enough of that for a lifetime. He wanted answers.

“A Shade is a construct of pure magic. Mind you, they can’t perform any on their own without training like regular animals or humans, but they are born from it.”

“Regular?”

Zatanna reached for her cup again and took her time drinking. Bruce knew she was doing it purposefully. She had always tried to rile him up in the stupidest ways and, much like two decades ago, Bruce didn’t feel like playing along with her games.

“Mhm. Shades are basically the highest form of wish-magic. Not really my discipline, you know me. I’m all spells and structure. All magic relies on belief, but wish-magic is the only one that isn’t powered by anything else, though some argue that written wishes should count as a form of spellcraft, but…”

She glanced at Bruce. He hadn’t taken off his cowl yet, but Zatanna must be able to tell that he was getting frustrated either way.

“That’s neither here or there.”

“But what does it do?”

“Basically? Whenever enough people, or a few very strong individuals wish for something concrete strong enough, it becomes true, with a certain set on restrictions. In your, or rather Robin’s case, Gotham has missed one of her vigilantes. The kid’s - Duke, right? - letter kickstarted the whole become true thing. I’m guessing he has some magical talent or it would have taken a little longer. They wanted Robin back, so they got Robin back, the way people saw Robin at least. It’s the reason why he’s stuck somewhere in-between Jason and Dick and you can’t take off his mask. Everything else the people don’t know must have been picked from the minds of those who are in the know. I was pretty convinced already of Robin’s nature when Alfred told me about his knowledge, but the requirements around his ankles only added to it. Oh! That reminds me, can I see them?”

Zatanna looked at Robin, not even bothering to hide her curiosity. Robin, in turn, looked at Bruce and what was Bruce supposed to do but nod?

Robin took off his shoes and sat down on the hood of the Batmobile to show Zatanna his bare ankles and the neat cursive curled around them. She reached for his ankles, holding one of them up, and began to read over it.

“One, two, four, five, six... Where’s number three? Before you went on patrol, you also had a three there, I’m sure.”

“Let me see.”

Bruce stepped closer to the duo, reading over the requirements as well, and truly, number three was missing.

“Why did it disappear? Did you notice?”

Robin shook his head but then hesitated. “My ankles did warm up slightly after I accompanied Mandy home.”

Zatanna whistled and slowly let go of Robin’s legs. “You really don’t slow down at all, kiddo, do you?”

“What?”

“Shades aren’t permanent constructs,” Zatanna explained. “They have a reason for being evoked. My mother’s old cat used to be one. She died pretty soon after my mother and I was heartbroken. So, one day, she was just there again. She disappeared once I got older and had stopped grieving. Her requirements must have been something like ‘Cheer up Zatanna’ and when she had fulfilled that, she wasn’t needed any longer.”

“So Robin will disappear once he has fulfilled all of his requirements?” Bruce summarized.

It seemed cruel. Only existing for as long as you were needed, but Bruce could get behind it. Batman had been born out of such a need and he’d disappear when he had fulfilled his role, or Bruce’s back had been shattered beyond saving.

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Robin appeared surprisingly solemn and lost in thought. From what Bruce had seen of the boy so far, he was as bright as the sun. “Mhm. Yeah. That sounds fitting to me.”

Zatanna smiled softly again. “Of course, that’s who you are after all.”

She stood up straight, her feet touching the ground too for once, and stretched. “Any more questions for me? Because I need my good night’s sleep. I’ve got a show tomorrow.”

Yes. Bruce had a thousand questions. He needed to know how exactly this Shade deal worked out. If there were any repercussions, how was he supposed to interact with the child who looked so much like-

But the only question he did ask was a different one. “Is he dangerous?”

“Am I what now!?” Robin shouted, enraged the moment Zatanna replied with a calm “No.”

“Thank you,” Bruce murmured.

“No problem, Bumblebee.”

Bruce almost felt like rolling his eyes at the old nickname but decided to stay silent on the matter.

Robin stayed at Alfred’s side while Bruce accompanied Zatanna to the door.

“You should treasure him,” she said when they reached the entrance. “Shades like him are rare, and the kid loves you already.”

Bruce was tired. Familiar ghosts and words had been tearing at him today and he just wanted all of it to stop.

“He’s not real,” Bruce replied.

He wasn’t Jason.

Zatanna snorted, not very ladylike but in her careless way that made it possible for the two to become friends in the first place. Bruce wasn’t exactly good with people.

“He’ll help you regardless. And if he fulfills his requirements at this pace, he won’t be around for long. Just give him a chance.”

Bruce sighed and it shouldn’t feel so much like admitting defeat, but it did. Zatanna smiled at him, and after a quick peck on the cheeks, disappeared into the night.

Bruce lingered in the darkness for a while longer before returning to the Cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Zatanna being childhood friends will be my forever canon.  
Thanks for reading!  
I promise the next chapter will have a little more action and by action I mean Bruce has a breakdown but what else is new.  
I'd love to hear what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's lateness was brought to you by It's Exams Time And I Want To Kill My Teachers.  
Have fun!

Robin was not happy, thank-you-very-much.

“But _why _do I have to go upstairs? I can stay in the Cave just fine.”

Penny-One, _It’s Alfred Upstairs and You Will Address Me As Such_, was showing Robin the manor. For some reason, he believed that Robin needed to stay upstairs now, and Robin didn’t understand what for.

Robin has no business in the manor and he could get an excellent good night’s rest on one of the beds downstairs in the Cave. Or, if he wasn’t sleeping, use the time to train and check case files. What was he supposed to do upstairs? There was nothing here for him to do!

“And this is your room. Master Bruce’s room is right opposite of you.”

They had come to a halt on the third floor. Robin mustered the spacious room he had been given, then turned to look at the door that was supposedly Bruce’s.

“Bruce Wayne sleeps at the other end of the manor,” he told Penny- _Alfred_ slowly. Robin wasn’t particularly interested in Bruce Wayne or the manor beyond what they could offer to the mission, but he still knew of and about them.

“Not anymore. We decided on a change of scenery.”

The way Pen- Alfred emphasized _we_, clued Robin in that it probably was a decision that butler had made by himself. Then again, this manor didn’t harbor more than two people nowadays.

And now Robin too apparently.

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

Alfred made no move to explain any further.

“I’ll bring you some clothes later on. You may get acquainted with your room now.”

And then he left Robin alone, disappearing quicker than Robin could process his words.

Clothes? He was wearing clothes - well, his uniform. But the point was the same. He didn’t need anything but that. Or did Alfred expect him to go on patrol wearing a sweater? Ridiculous.

Robin blew a raspberry and took a look around his room. It wasn’t like there was anything else for him to do. It was barely past midnight, he should be on patrol still instead of staring at maroon walls but no, he was stuck here. He couldn’t wait for things to go back to normal.

This sucked.

First things first, Robin checked out how secure this room was. There was the entrance door leading to the main hall and two big windows that could only be opened from the inside. Robin knocked against the glass and sure enough, it was bulletproof as expected.

The room itself didn’t have much furniture, only a bed and a desk. Behind a door on the right wall lingered an empty walk-in wardrobe while on the opposite side, Robin found a bathroom. Here too the windows were bulletproof.

More interestingly, though, was the vent Robin could spot in the very top right corner of the room. That would definitely be useful someday.

When Robin had finished his inspection, he returned to the actual room. He was going to just drop down on the bed, bored out of his mind, when he spotted a pile of neatly folded clothes on the bed.

Had Alfred entered the room when Robin hadn’t been paying attention? It looked like it.

Robin frowned, unhappy that Alfred had managed to sneak up on him. His fine-polished skills were already deteriorating because he didn’t keep up with his training. 

Robin picked up the clothes, which turned out to be a pair of shorts he wasn’t sure wouldn’t slip off his hips, and a silk shirt that might as well serve him as a nightgown. Robin pulled the shirt close. It smelled like fresh detergent and a spicy scent he associated with Batman.

Must be his shirt then. No wonder it was much too big then. Well, it wasn’t like they just had clothes in his size lying around. Pen- Alfred must have picked whatever was fresh out of the laundry.

Robin mustered the clothes for another moment, then admitted defeat and began taking off his uniform. First, he took off his gloves, then green pixie boots, followed by his socks. He wiggled his free toes before continuing with his red vest. Once his chest was bare, he slipped on the light green shirt/nightgown and switched his shorts.

He must look pretty stupid.

Recalling the presence of a full-body mirror in the closet, Robin walked in there to check out what he looked like.

His black hair stood up even more wildly than usual and he was positively drowning in the shirt. It reached down to his knees and made him look like a child playing dress-up.

It could be worse, Robin guessed. At least the shirt was warm and comfortable, soft and nothing like his uniform really.

True, his suit was comfortable, but more on the_ ‘as much as it can be with still providing protection’_ scala and less on the fluffiness one.

Robin tried to fix his hair a little bit, but it just wouldn’t stop looking like a bird’s nest. He’d have to talk to Batman for getting some hair gel for patrol.

When Robin was finished, he returned to his room and cleaned up his uniform. Carefully he folded it and, unsure whether it really belonged in the wardrobe, he put it on the desk.

… And what now?

Should he go to sleep?

He wasn’t drained but it wasn’t like he had anything else to do until Batman came to fetch him.

Robin let himself fall on the bed and was surprised when he began to sink into the mattress. He rolled back on the queen-sized bed, ending on the headboard.

The pillows were pretty soft too. And the blanket sure looked warm.

It would do no harm if he just tried them out for a while.

Right?

** X **

It was still dark when Robin woke up, falling from the bed with his blanket tangled in between his legs. He was immediately awake and alert. Robin scanned the room for enemies but nobody was around, not even the huge drapes over the windows moved. He had just startled awake. Robin sighed and crawled onto the bed again, looking out of the window.

He could see the moon, but the stars were already dimmer than when he had fallen asleep. In the middle of the city, it was hard to see the stars at all, especially with the big factories still running in the middle of the night.

Here, on the Wayne manor grounds, it was a little easier as the whole property was surrounded by green. The air wasn’t much better, but the slight difference was enough to be noticeable.

The stars were pretty. It would be morning soon.

Unsure of what he should do, Robin opted for walking through the manor again. He was well and truly awake now, all signs of fatigue having been chased away by his harsh impact with the ground.

A perimeter check would keep him busy a little longer. Penny- urgh, _Alfred_ hasn’t shown him the old family wing yet and Robin should know what was wrong with it since they had decided to move away from it. And maybe he could sneak away into the Cave after that since Alfred would definitely be busy preparing breakfast and not care to check for Robin.

On bare feet, Robin sneaked out of his room. He heard no sound coming from the room that was allegedly Bruce’s now. It was probably for the better. Batman needed a lot of sleep to heal properly.

The ground was cool, but not uncomfortably so. Nevertheless, Robin decided to stick to the carpeted path of the manor. It took a while for him to cross through the labyrinth of halls until he reached the family wing. The manor was intentionally designed to be hard to navigate, it would throw potential kidnappers off.

The first door Robin passed lead to the master bedroom. Nobody had slept in it since Martha and Thomas Wayne had passed. Right next to it was a light blue door, painted with handprints in various sizes, all accompanied by different signatures.

_ Bruce, 4. Bruce, 8. Dick, 12. Bruce, 10. Bruce 13. Dick, 15. Dick, 16. Bruce, 17. _

This room must be the one that had belonged to Bruce’s first room and was later turned into Dick Grayson’s. The first Robin didn’t live in the manor anymore, but a quick peek inside told Robin that room definitely still belonged to the older boy. While the room was clean, many of Dick’s possessions were still there. Nothing he actually truly needed probably, but the space was still there.

It would benefit Gotham if Batman and Robin could team up properly with Nightwing.

Robin closed the door to Dick’s room as silently as he could before walking further down the hallway. The next room was Bruce’s, had been since he had first returned from his training trip. Robin was going to enter it when he heard something from the next room over.

Quickly he rushed to the next door, disregarding the metal plague pinned to the door proclaiming the room to be off-limits for everyone who wasn’t Jason and especially over the age of 18.

In the middle of the barely lit room sat someone who was very distinctly neither.

Hesitantly he stepped closer to Batman, keenly aware that startling the man would be a terrible idea right now.

“Batman?” Robin tried to keep his voice soft and kind like they always did when talking with civilians.

Batman slowly lifted himself off the floor, blue eyes going wide when he spotted Robin.

Robin didn’t know what to do. He was supposed to support Batman, fight Gotham’s worst criminals by his side and save the day - this was much further removed from what he usually did than he was comfortable with.

“Robin.” Batman’s voice sounded rough, but not like his usual growl. It was more exhausted if anything. “What are you doing here?”

“Penny-One showed me a room and I fell asleep for a while. But now I’m not. Asleep I mean. I think.”

Right, this was going _fantastically_. But it didn’t seem to bother Batman too much. Besides being a little confused about Robin’s general appearance, he smiled almost a bit amused.

“Look, I was just trying to say-“

“Are you hungry?”

Robin blinked.

“What?”

Batman stood up, his joints cracking like they belonged to a much older man.

“You haven’t eaten anything but that one breakfast since we met. You must be hungry.”

“Oh.” Robin shrugged. He didn’t feel particularly hungry. If he was honest, he wasn’t even sure if he could get hungry, given that he wasn’t exactly human.

Or something.

Zatanna’s explanation had gone a bit above his head. He knew he was Robin and existed for specific purposes, but anything further than that was out of his reach.

But watching Batman, Robin was sure the man hadn’t asked him only in regards to Robin’s general well-being, though he did look a bit uncomfortable having realized they hadn’t fed Robin.

Maybe Batman was just looking for an excuse to get out of this situation.

“Sure,” Robin said. “I could eat.”

“Good,” Batman replied and started walking out of the room.

Hesitantly, he put an arm on Robin’s shoulder, pushing the smaller vigilante with him. He closed the door without even looking back, suddenly in a rush to escape the floor.

“What do you want to eat?”

Robin has no idea. He hadn’t eaten much so far, only Alfred’s breakfast. He, of course, knew what kind of food existed, the same way that he knew the snacks they got after patrols were awesome. He just hadn’t really tasted them himself until now.

“How about pancakes?” Batman continued. He must have sensed Robin’s uneasiness.

“Sounds good.”

“Pancakes it is then.”

They continued walking side by side, Batman’s hand still on Robin’s shoulders until they reached the kitchen. Robin watched as Batman took out two bowls, a pan, flour, eggs, chocolate chips and a couple more things and began stirring pancake dough. Silence lingered heavily in the air, weighing down on Robin’s shoulders. He wanted to ask a thousand questions, know what Batman had been thinking all alone in that room in the dark. He opened his mouth, but no words escaped him.

He was Robin, he should know what his partner was up to, yet it felt wrong to question him about this.

Batman heated up the pan and added a bit of olive oil from a fancy green bottle. He waited a couple moments, then held his hand under the water and threw a few drops of it into the pan. The oil in the pan frizzled and Batman nodded absentmindedly.

He reached for the bowl and poured the dough into it. The air filled with a delightful smell, sweet and mouthwatering.

Robin watched eagerly as the chocolate chips in the pancakes melted and the pancake gained a golden color. When they had darkened enough, Batman pulled a plate out of the cupboard with one hand while he flipped the pancake with the other.

Even though Robin was fairly sure he didn’t need food, his stomach now began to grumble. It just smelled too good and Robin wanted to taste it.

Soon after, the pancake was finished and Batman put it on the plate. He put chocolate sauce over it and then turned around to Robin and handed him the plate.

“Here, try it-“ Batman winced as if he’d been stabbed. “Robin.”

Robin eagerly took the plate from him, not even bothering to wait on knife and fork as he just held the plate close to his mouth and but into the pancake.

It was sweet and soft and warm and the best thing Robin had ever had the pleasure of trying.

“Good?” Batman asked, already making a second pancake, presumably for himself.

When it was done, Robin had already finished his own and was eyeing Bruce’s pancake as subtly as he could.

“Do you want it?”

Robin felt his cheeks heat up in shame at being discovered.

“Eh. Uhm. I mean. We can share?”

Batman snorted but handed Robin the plate together with the cutlery.

“I make the next one, you cut that one into pieces.”

Robin jumped down from the counter he’d been sitting on so he could use it to cut the pancake more easily. He first cut a piece for himself, then the next one for Batman. He picked it up with the fork but was unsure how to proceed.

Batman looked back at Robin and held out his hand. Robin gave him the fork and Batman ate the piece of pancake Robin had stabbed onto it.

“Not bad,” Batman muttered. “Better with strawberries.”

“Better?” Robin exclaimed. “This can get better?”

He didn’t mean to sound so amazed, but the wonder had caught him unexpectedly. Robin was pretty sure the taste of this was already worth an all-time get out of Blackgate card. These pancakes were heavenly.

“Yes,” Batman replied. “I like strawberries the most. Fresh ones.”

He eyed the fridge to his right.

“You can check in the fridge if we have some strawberry jam. It’s not as good, but fruit and chocolate are a pretty great combination in general.”

Robin didn’t give Batman the chance to tell him that twice. He rushed to the fridge and grabbed only the strawberry jam to try that first. After a first hesitant test had indeed proved that pancakes could be improved still, he quickly glanced at Batman. The man was busy creating a pretty high tower of pancakes and there was still a lot of dough leftover.

Assured of his decision, Robin opened the fridge once more and grabbed every jam he could find, and when he saw a couple fruits, he took them as well.

“May I have a knife?” He asked Batman.

Batman only raised a brow at the number of items suddenly scattered over the counter, but didn’t comment on them.

“Knives are in the drawer at the very end and cutting boards just beneath the. Be careful, Alfred keeps his knives sharp.”

Robin nodded and retrieved both items.

A couple moments later, he was cutting apples, bananas, mangos and throwing them all on the pancakes, covered with chocolate sauce and different kinds of jams.

Batman didn’t really try much, leaving the bulk of the food to Robin, but whenever Robin held out a fork with a new combination, Batman would try it.

The experimenting made Robin giddy. It was a lot of fun, he barely noticed the sunrise. He became only aware of the passage of time when Alfred entered the kitchen, which had become something of a mess.

He looked like he wanted to chase both Batman and Robin out of the kitchen, but there was a fond touch to his stern expression.

“I hope you plan on cleaning this up too.”

Batman and Robin exchanged a look and Robin grinned.

“Of course!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
It has a transitionary kinda feel and. Well. It's Gonna Get Worse Before It Gets Better, right?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay but exams happened and as of Tuesday I am also sick.  
So there might be more mistakes than usual I barely edited this.  
Gonna get back to this when my head doesn't feel like it's stuffed with cotton.

Bruce didn’t know what he was doing. He knew most people assumed he was always prepared for everything, but lately he was holding himself together with safety pins, having about as many plans as he used to at sixteen: Not a single one.

After Zatanna has left, he’d returned to an empty Cave, Alfred and the kid gone, probably upstairs.

_ Robin _ .

Bruce’s feet carried him over to the glass Case. Alfred had looked horrified when Bruce had put it up.

_ ‘This is how you want to remember his son?’ _

No, he remembered Jason in a hundred different ways, he has a whole bucket list of them lying in his nightstand. The Case, on the other hand, was a completely different deal. This was a reminder for himself that he couldn’t be foolish again. He was the reason his partner was dead. Had he been faster, stronger, smarter, then the Joker never would have gotten to Robin.

Looking at the destroyed Robin uniform gave Bruce a sense of purpose. There’d be no more dead children if he could help it. He’d keep fighting for as long as he could, drag himself out every night if that meant nobody had to bury a loved one anymore.

And now Bruce had endangered yet another child. The disgusting pig he’d apprehended tonight hadn’t even looked remotely like the Joker. Still, the flash of red in the corner of Bruce’s eyes had been enough to take him back to a night, any night, Gotham’s dynamic duo had taken on the Joker - and Bruce had lost it.

Even hearing Zatanna assure him that Robin wasn’t a child, wasn’t even human, didn’t help calm him in any way because Robin was child enough. A tremendously grown-up one, perhaps, but still a child underneath it all. Bruce had worked hard to ensure the lore surrounding Batman, Batgirl and Robin was sound and in no way connected to their civilian identities. Behind his mask and laughter, Robin had become as immortal as Peter Pan to Gotham’s public.

He couldn’t grow up, he couldn’t die.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

This Shade of Robin was caught in-between that dream and reality and Bruce was stuck in the middle. He couldn’t take the kid out on the streets. He’d vowed to never let anything like that happen ever again.

But then again - what did this Robin have besides his mask? He couldn’t even take it off because he didn’t exist as a person with its own identity.

Bruce couldn’t ever truly shed Batman’s skin, but he could separate from all the obvious tools associated with the vigilante, only to get lost in Bruce Wayne.

He hadn’t even noticed his feet carrying him to Jason’s door until he was already sitting on the dark wooden floor in the middle of his son’s room. He was alternating between hating to even sleep in the same wing as his son used to - most certainly the reason Alfred had finally forced Bruce to abandon it, setting up a new bedroom in the guest wing - and spending hours just getting lost in memories.

He didn’t dare touch a single item. Not the bedsheets, the unfinished homework - an essay Bruce could recite by heart nowadays - the games on the shelves, the trophies, or the food stashes beneath the bed.

It felt wrong to empty or even just clean up a space he had promised Jason he’d never touch. Jason hadn’t dared to trust him until Bruce had reassured him time and time again that he wouldn’t do a thing to Jason’s room unless the teenager allowed him to. It had taken an entire year until they could repaint it because of that, but Jason’s smile had made it worth it.

“Batman?”

Robin’s voice was a surprise. He hadn’t really paid attention to where exactly Alfred had stashed the boy, but Bruce was certain it shouldn’t be here.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, wincing when his voice came across much harsher than he had intended.

“Penny-One showed me a room and I fell asleep for a while,” Robin replied. “But now I’m not. Asleep I mean. I think.”

Robin smiled nervously, familiar in a way that pulled on all of Bruce’s heartstrings. And the outfit he was wearing didn’t make it any better. He was dressed in one of Bruce’s white pajama shirts, looking like the ghost of a Victorian child. His mask still covered half of his face, though it didn’t seem to have bothered him while sleeping if the bed hair was any kind of give-away. Though, maybe that was just part of the vigilante life. Barbara, Dick, and Jason had also been able to fall asleep pretty much everywhere in every outfit. It had made long stake-outs quite entertaining.

“Are you hungry?” Bruce asked suddenly.

His stomach was heavy like iron, he doubted he could eat right now, but Robin should be hungry.

“What?”

While Robin was busy catching up to Bruce’s question, Bruce was already moving him in the direction of the kitchen. Opposed to what most of the Justice League believed, Bruce did have hobbies. He liked gardening for example, though more on the biochemical side than the admiring pretty flowers one. Alfred could do proper flower arrangements while Bruce bred a new type of rose to use. Otherwise, Bruce spent more than just a couple hours, if he could, in the kitchen. He didn’t know why baking especially helped him calm down, but the world always seemed a little easier when you only had to stir dough.

Bruce hadn’t done anything in the kitchen for a while. He didn’t even know what they had stocked in the pantry still. Alfred usually adjusted to Bruce’s eating habits and he hadn’t exactly sat down to eat well, or at all, in the past months.

They should have everything here for pancakes though, and since Robin had never tried them, it was as good a start as any.

The kid was content to watch at first, try the basics. As soon as Bruce pointed him towards the fridge, that shyness was over and Robin cut up enough fruits for a small army, which were more than Bruce assumed they had stocked.

It was amusing to see such a tiny kid in what amounted to a dress with sleeves pulled up, shoving a copious amount of food in his mouth. Once the sun was up, Alfred also wasn’t far anymore.

He took one look at them, asked dryly whether they would clean up the mess, and the returned to look after another part of the house. It wasn’t perfect, but for all the darkness lingering at the back of Bruce’s head, this was the most pleasant morning in a while.

** X **

Robin wouldn’t leave Bruce’s side for the rest of the morning as well. Alfred had left to do some shopping, which left only the two of them. Usually, Bruce would hole up in the Cave, Robin most certainly would be pleased to do so, but Bruce didn’t want to take him downstairs again as well.

Instead, he gave Robin one of his old AC/DC shirts to change into and dug out one of Dick’s old pants to cut short. The attire didn’t look any less ridiculous than the previous one, but Robin wasn’t complaining. He seemed content at Bruce’s side, even when he was just watching Bruce look through month old paperwork.

It was true, Lucius was handling most if not all of Bruce’s affairs at the moment, but that didn’t mean Bruce should have neglected his duties so much. Jason would be angry with him.

As Bruce sorted through the papers on his desk and then continued with the files on his laptop, Robin took a look around his office. He lingered especially long on all the objects that Bruce kept for personal reasons. He didn’t dare to move the picture frames until Bruce pushed one in Robin’s hands, letting the boy inspect the photo more closely. He was quite enamored with Dick, thirteen at the time, dancing with Barbara in the ballroom.

“That was seven years ago,” Bruce told Robin, still typing away on his laptop.

Some of the numbers for the Narrows project didn’t add up, Bruce should speak with Lucius about it.

“Barbara - Batgirl - attended the party as extra help so she could gather some more information while I was busy as Bruce Wayne. In the end, neither she or Dick really helped out. They kept sneaking mulled wine.”

“Why? That only makes them unfit for duty?”

Even without looking, Bruce was able to tell Robin was frowning just from the way his voice dripped with confusion.

“They did it for fun.”

“How is this fun?”

With a sigh, Bruce turned his office chair around to look at Robin. If not for his honest expression, Bruce would guess he was joking.

“Just fun, playing games, doing stuff you’re not allowed to but is relatively harmless.”

Robin tilted his head slightly. “I don’t get it.”

Bruce looked back at his laptop. He had plenty to do still, but Bruce felt obliged to teach Robin something that would keep him busy for a while at least.

“Come on,” he said and got up. “There’s something in the living room that should show you what fun is.”

Eagerly, Robin followed Bruce through the halls. When they got to the living room, Bruce headed for the TV. He couldn’t quite recall the last time he had turned it on. He wasn’t really one to watch TV, preferring books, and he could get more precise news in the Cave.

He could also play video games in the Cave. Dick had set up a system when Bruce had been away and he had never taken it down.

“Do you know what Mario Kart is?” Bruce asked and turned on the Wii.

“Yes,” Robin answered from his place on the sofa. Then he jumped up in excitement. “Are we going to play it?”

Bruce honestly hadn’t expected that answer. He needed to set up a test for Robin, figure out what knowledge was actually stored in him.

“You can. I’ll show you how it works-”

“No!” Robin interrupted. “You have to play with me!”

Bruce had already resigned from working any more today, hadn’t he?

“Alright, but only one round,” he agreed and grabbed a second remote.

He picked Toad, expecting a teasing remark for it and getting none as Robin was fixated on the different choices.

“Yoshi has good cars,” he told Robin after he still hadn’t picked his character after almost five minutes.

“Which ones is that?”

“The green dragon.”

Robin selected his character and then, with Bruce’s advice, chose a car that was easy to drive. In the first round Robin came in 8th, then fifth, then third and soon after he traded his car for a faster one and tried to snatch the gold pokal from Bruce.

“Don’t you dare blue-shell me now!” Robin screeched and jumped off the sofa to stand right in front of Bruce and block his view.

“You’re not playing fair,” Bruce retorted and leaned towards the right so he could still see the screen, but it was already too late. He came in second behind Robin and even though the boy cheated, he was cheering like mad.

“I won! I won!” He shouted and jumped up and down, holding his remote up.

“Ha! Take that!” He pointed at Bruce, a broad smile on his face.

Bruce grinned and brushed his hand through the boy’s hair. “Well done, Jaylad-”

Bruce froze.

Beneath his hand, the boy, _Robin_, tensed.

Quickly, as if he had been burned, Bruce pulled back his hand. Robin looked up at him, whatever thoughts his eyes could have given away hidden behind that infernal mask.

“Batman-”

“I have to go.”

Bruce rushed out of the room like a man chased by the devil himself. He hardly made it to the nearest bathroom before he threw up in the toilet.

What was he doing? Playing games with a magical construct, replacing the memories he’d made with his-

More bile rose up his throat and Bruce thought he was choking on pure acid. He should have known better, he never should have spent more time around Robin.

He was going to disappear soon, that was all he was good for. A temporary band-aid over a wound that would not heal. Bruce knew pain, what kind of injuries you didn’t recover from and this was one. He shouldn’t have deceived himself.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his throat hoarse. “I’m so fucking sorry, Jay.”

He dropped down next to the toilet, the disgusting taste still in his mouth.

What a pathetic, broken hero he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Nothing quite like bonding only to have a break down right?  
Robin, at this point, is still a very weird creature. He's got knowledge about Robin and knows what random things are and how they're supposed to feel, but he's never experienced it. Hence his confusion about everything.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams kicked my ass but I lived!

Robin was torn between running right after Batman and staying exactly where he was. He knew Bruce Wayne was still grieving for his son. Robin shouldn’t have been so pushy. This wasn’t his place. He belonged to the shadows, should live in-between the darkness and the bats instead of this fancy manor.

Unable to make a decision, Robin stayed right where he was until Alfred found him.

He didn’t dare move, for if he ran into Bat- _Bruce Wayne_, he’d only make it worse on the man. He was Robin, the Bat’s partner on the streets. He should stay there, he knew better.

He wasn’t supposed to repair anything but the deep wounds Robin’s absence had torn into Gotham.

When Alfred came to pick Robin up and guide him back to his room, it was already afternoon. The butler had gone out shopping, buying groceries and clothes. How exactly he had guessed the correct size for Robin, he didn’t know. But the butler hadn’t been grade A sharpshooter because he had terrible eyesight.

So Robin now possessed a couple hoodies, shirts, pants, sock, underwear - an entire wardrobe basically. What for he didn’t know, he would have been fine with just a couple shirts, but he wasn’t going to argue with Alfred. He also didn’t want to risk his uniform disappearing since he was pretty sure Alfred had been the one to take it from Robin’s room.

For the next weeks, Alfred was pretty much Robin’s only company. He didn’t see either Batman or Bruce, but the news talked plenty about Batman tearing through Gotham’s gangs.

Robin tried to figure out a pattern behind Batman’s actions, but besides the undeniable fact that he was going after organized crime - even the police knew that by now! - Robin had nothing.

He tried to keep himself busy in every other way he could. In the first few days, he busied himself exploring every inch of the manor. He found more than just a few hidden passages and pathways, and each time he dutifully reported his findings back to Alfred. It wasn’t quite like a proper mission report to Batman or typing it away in the Batcomputer, but it kept Robin from going stir crazy. In the beginning, staying in the manor was almost a bit like being on a very long and very dull stakeout. Robin could do it, but that didn’t mean he had a lot of fun while waiting for an event he couldn’t even quite explain.

Thankfully, Alfred didn’t tell Robin whether the passages he had found were already known to the man. Most of them he should be aware of, they had been used by the servant to go through the house unnoticed, but there were also emergency exists, some looking newer than others.

And then there were the possibly ancient passages. Robin had only found two of them, but he hadn’t dared to go too far into them. They led away from the house and, after a certain depth, the dirty stone walls turned into still dirty marble walls. Robin knew better than go down there without any backup or equipment. His new hoodies, jeans and jacket kept him warm down there in the cold, but he still felt chilly, uneasy. As if he shouldn’t be down there.

Of course, Robin was a brave hero, but he wasn’t reckless. Therefore he had reported his findings to Alfred and moved on.

Robin also sketched a lot.

Alfred had given him a fancy looking sketchbook, dark red and leatherbound, and Robin used it to sketch the house and all his findings. Multiple pages were now covered by complicated sketches of the manor’s interior. The more Robin drew, the more did he notice all the empty spaces. There were a lot of walls that were much thicker than they should be - or thinner than they actually were.

Robin had even looked up the house plan to see whether the lost spaces were accounted for there. These discrepancies had led him to most of the passages and rooms he discovered in the later stages of his explorations. One of the hidden rooms was filled with knives, a collection belonging to a Miss Elizabeth Bloomsberry-Wayne, who allegedly never married and chased off each new suitor with a different blade. Alfred made her sound like a pretty cool lady to be around.

The second week had made Robin fill the sketchbook with drawings of a different nature. Even if he couldn’t go to the Cave for more training, Robin wasn’t about to just drop his studies entirely. He sought out the library and searched through its various books. Thomas Wayne had left behind a very dedicated collection of anatomy books and Robin studied those that looked the most interesting. He copied the studies of those pages in pencil, taking notes and comparing them to other publications.

It was a tedious work, but again, it kept him busy.

Robin didn’t have anything to do but keep busy.

But that got old and boring after a week too, even when Robin moved to exciting topics such as poisons. Poison Ivy, after all, got more creative with every breakout. It couldn’t hurt to prepare for weird toxins you could only find somewhere deep down in a jungle.

Not that any of that would be of any use if Batman didn’t let Robin anywhere near Ivy or Gotham in general.

But that was only a question of time, Robin was sure. He’d get back into the field soon.

For week three, Robin followed Alfred around. He watched the man prepare breakfast, lunch and dinner that only Robin and Alfred ever seemed to eat and after the first day, even started helping. The lasagna was his second favorite dish to make right now, but pancakes still took the highest spot. However, Robin was fairly sure that that had nothing to do with the actual cooking itself and more with how much fun it had been to make them with Bruce.

Cleaning was a chore Robin didn’t like anywhere near as much fun as cooking, but that too had to be done. He tried to go about it in the most creative way, only walking on his hands or never touching the ground while dusting the staircase. Once in a while, Robin could spot Alfred watching him, his shoulders tense, but then he’d see Robin observing him and calm again. Robin wanted that tension to go away, but that too wasn’t anything that time couldn’t heal.

He was Gotham’s third songbird.

He couldn’t change anything about his number.

They’d adjust.

After three weeks, Alfred had gotten pretty used to Robin as well, so that was a huge bonus. He spent time with Robin not because he felt that he had to keep an eye on the outsider, but because he wanted to.

Or so Robin hoped at least.

One day, Alfred returned home with a laptop, a quite new and fast gadget, Wayne tech that wasn’t even on the market yet, and gave it Robin to “keep busy and get some entertainment”.

The laptop had a couple games that Robin enjoyed playing. They weren’t exactly contributing to keeping Gotham safe, and that part tore at his soul like nothing else, but Robin was trying to get accustomed to this state of limbo he was living in.

He felt a little less like a ghost haunting an old manor when he could play racing games or create a town filled with people.

And when he wasn’t trying to get two bits of data to fall in love, he attempted hacking into the Batcomputer.

Unfortunately, the security on the computer was much tighter than Robin’s skill level could ever pass through.

Thankfully, the police’s data banks were ridiculously easy to get into. Robin quickly gained access to the files about Batman’s recent targets. The police had them all neatly filtered under ‘vigilante involvement’ and sorted by date too.

Now, with additional help from the newspapers Robin picked up eagerly every morning, he was finally able to put together a pattern. Batman was looking into Maroni’s affairs - senior and junior. All the recent deals they had made, who they had angered and with whom they had started a fight.

He was probably trying to figure out what was actually going on behind Maroni junior’s deal with Scarecrow. Without any access to the Batcomputer, Robin couldn’t deduce how far Batman had come with his investigations yet. It was stupid that Batman didn’t let Robin help. The Cave was about the securest place in all of Gotham, given its defenses. Robin could do productive work down there, but no, he was stuck topside.

Or he had been for almost four weeks.

True enough, Robin hadn’t seen his partner whatsoever in almost a month, but while pretending to be asleep, he had overheard bits of a conversation. The vent in his bathroom had proved to be useful after all as he had been able to take off the screws attaching it to the wall and began sneaking right through it.

He hadn’t sketched those pathways out for Alfred to see, not wanting to give away Robin’s own secret sneaky paths, but tried to memorize them as good as he could. And whenever he had found his memory lacking, he had attached bright pink sticky notes to the vents, telling him which way to go.

True, spying on Batman while he talked with Alfred in his office was a new low, but Robin was determined to improve his situation. Besides, information gathering had always been at the very top of Robin’s skill set.

By listening to Batman and Alfred discuss, rather heatedly, Robin learned that Bruce would be away for a fundraiser in Metropolis - and Alfred needed to run a few errands meanwhile. The problem was that Robin would be left alone, but even that had been resolved after a few more exchanges.

“The boy hardly knows anything but how to be your support. He won’t cause any trouble. Or would you prefer I take him into the city?”

And after that, Robin began planning how to exploit Friday evening’s unsupervised two-hour window of freedom. He began modifying his laptop to the best of his abilities, kept on helping Alfred and, when asked about said Friday evening, reassured Alfred that it was no problem, of course, Robin would be alright by himself.

He had managed so far, right?

At that, Alfred’s expression had turned sour and Robin felt his stomach turn, but for what reason he couldn’t explain.

When Friday finally arrived, Robin bid Alfred goodbye and then, not even waiting until Alfred had left the manor grounds, he sneaked down to the Cave entrance. Remote hacking Batman’s tech without him knowing was much too difficult, but close as he was now, Robin’s chances had dropped from _impossible _to _manageable_.

He still needed more time than he’d prefer, but he made it in. Robin checked once more if he had disabled the alarm, then he rushed through the Cave, enjoying the familiar environment. This was his home, where he was meant to be.

He ran over to the uniforms, but couldn’t find his own. Batman had most likely put it somewhere he could study the fabric. It really wasn’t anything special, but it still belonged to Robin and he was sad to see it gone.

Even though it was ridiculous and he shouldn’t be wasting time, Robin decided to check out the other uniforms. Some looked quite old, with the material used being out of date. They must have belonged to the first Robin. Some of these never even saw the streets, Robin was sure.

He searched for one in pristine condition and his size and found a uniform way at the back. Long green tights, a red body, green sleeves, and a black and yellow cape. It looked different than the typical Robin uniform he had shown up in, but the design was pretty cool, and more importantly, it fit him.

After changing, Robin finally headed for his actual goal: the Bat-computer.

He tried to get comfortable in Batman’s big chair, wiggled until he had found the right position to sit in and then attached his laptop to the server. He still had an hour left until Penny-One returned, he had to make the best out of it.

Robin couldn’t use his access code, Batman had already erased that from the databanks most likely, and he couldn’t use Batman’s because he didn’t know it anymore and it would alert Batman that somebody was using his computer.

So, finding a backdoor it was.

Miserably, Robin thought forty minutes later, he could have also tried to find a single pearl on Gotham’s streets. While he should be glad the Batcomputer was so well defended, right now it was just frustrating him.

He only had twenty minutes left and it didn’t look like he was going to find his way in any time soon. Groaning, Robin leaned back in the huge chair and closed his eyes. He tried to rethink his approach, figure out a different way to get to Batman’s files, but he couldn’t think of even a single method.

Robin rechecked his watch. Ten minutes left. Maybe he should just get started on cleaning up and getting rid of any evidence of his presence.

He detached his laptop, got off the chair and pushed it back into the position he had found it in, when he suddenly heard a buzz growing increasingly louder.

It sounded like a motorbike.

Scrambling for cover, Robin hid beneath the large desk of the Batcomputer, pressing himself as much into the shadows as he could.

Bruce was still in Metropolis, so it couldn’t be Batman entering the Cave. Alfred was a possibility, except Robin knew he had taken a car and wouldn’t enter the Cave now. So the only question was friend or foe.

Robin calmed his breathing as much as he could and tried to spot who had entered the Cave. First, he couldn’t make anything out, so a crawled just a bit forward. He saw a flash of black, then blue - _Nightwing_.

Ally, protector of Blüdhaven, first Robin, ex-ward of Bruce Wayne: Richard John Grayson.

Robin almost let out a sigh of relief. This was good, or at least better. He still had to accommodate for the possibility that it was a shapeshifter or an illusionist, but the chances of that weren’t all too likely.

Yet, Robin still decided to stay and observe until he could definitely exclude the possibility of that Nightwing being a fake. Robin crawled back, head still raised high, and smashed his head against the edge of the table.

He hissed in pain and raised his hands to the back of his head. It felt like Superman had hit him at full power.

And of course, Robin’s actions hadn’t gone unnoticed either.

“Who is there?” Nightwing shouted.

Robin could hear him approach rapidly, nearing Robin’s hiding space. And then Robin was staring at a pair of black shoes and a dark escrima stick was held to Robin’s throat.

“Who are you?”

Robin slowly looked up, coming face to face with a shocked Nightwing.

“Robin,” he replied. “I’m Robin.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defense, I am (probably) depressed.  
This chapter is dedicated to my new discord child without whom this chapter would probably still not be posted.

Nightwing looked like he was seeing a ghost, staring at Robin, but that expression wasn’t anything new. Robin had seen Batman and Penny-One wear it multiple times already.

“I will stand up now,” Robin announced. “I’m unarmed.”

Robin waited a moment to give Nightwing a chance to react, then he slowly rose to his feet, his hands held above his head.

“Who are you?” Nightwing asked again, his voice tainted by mistrust.

It hurt to hear the older hero speak in such a way. Even if he had changed uniform, name and city, he was still Gotham’s second vigilante and Robin wanted Nightwing to like him. But perhaps he should be thankful that Nightwing hadn’t immediately attempted to subdue him.

“I’m Robin. Batman brought me here.”

Nightwing obviously didn’t believe him, though the way he held his head suggested that he was at least contemplating it. Batman hadn’t notified Nightwing about Robin #2’s appearance either, had he? It wasn’t all that far-fetched he wouldn’t talk about the third Robin, especially since he wasn’t even a proper child. Besides, a real threat wouldn’t go for such a weak lie, or at least Robin hoped they wouldn’t.

“Then why are you sneaking around in the Cave?”

Robin bit the inside of his cheeks.

“Batman didn’t want me working, but he’s been too hard on himself and I wanted to help. That’s why I sneaked in here today since he’s busy in Metropolis and Penny-One is shopping.”

Robin glanced at his wrist.

“Was shopping,” he corrected himself. “Alfred should be by now. He can verify my story.”

And then, as if summoned by the devil himself, Alfred entered the Cave. His face was schooled into a carefully neutral expression, but Robin could tell he was annoyed.

The impassive face disappeared as soon as he spotted Nightwing though.

“Master Dick,” Alfred said, stunned. “You’re here - and Robin too.”

Robin tried to make himself seem smaller than he was. Maybe that could prevent Alfred from taking away Robin’s desserts and laptop.

“So this new kid really is Robin? B- He went back on his word _again_?”

Nightwing put his escrima sticks back into their holsters only to raise his hands towards the ceiling in anger. “I can’t believe him!”

“Master Dick, I can assure you this wasn’t the case this time,” Alfred said.

His voice was strict, didn’t allow any backtalk, but he was also kind. Nightwing must have picked up on his intonation and now looked at Alfred with not only anger, but also curiosity dancing behind his eyes.

“Oh, it _wasn’t?_ Well, then how was it because from my perspective it sure looks like Bruce already has a new sidekick because apparently he’s too fucking stubborn and can’t even accept my help.”

The amount of pain coloring Nightwing’s words surprised Robin. He knew the first Robin had cut ties with Batman and he had thought that mending their relationship would be very beneficial for Gotham and Blüdhaven, but he hadn’t actually expected this kind of reaction.

Robin didn’t know what happened between Batman and Nightwing in the last six months, which another gap he desperately needed the information in the Bat-Computer for. As far as Robin was aware Nightwing and Batman had only kept a tentative peace for last Robin’s sake. There shouldn’t be anything warranting Nightwing looking so heartbroken.

“Take my word for it, Master Dick,” Alfred continued calmly. “I will explain upstairs. The young Master Robin isn’t actually supposed to be down in the Cave at all and I am very interested to hear how he managed to bypass our security systems without alerting anyone. It seems we have to update them again.”

Nightwing didn’t look like he wanted to go upstairs. With his feet planted steadfast on the ground like a tree, he appeared like an unmoving marble sculpture.

“I don’t have anything to change into,” Nightwing said.

His words acted like a shield, but Alfred’s reply tore through it like a bomb.

“We still have some of your clothes in the Cave. And if they do not fit, you may change into Master Bruce’s clothes. Heaven knows, he bloody well lives in this Cave now and keeps half his wardrobe here.”

Robin didn’t even wait for Alfred to turn to him, to go rush to the stalls and change into his daytime clothes. He put on fluffy red socks, the black sweat pants and green hoodie he’d been wearing before, and returned to Alfred’s side. The butler didn’t say anything to Robin, but it wasn’t like the look Alfred was giving him wasn’t devastating enough on its own.

Nightwing took much more time changing than Robin, but he too returned in civilian clothes. Nobody could escape Alfred’s household rules for long. Nightwing’s equally black sweat pants fit him well, but his hoodie was too big. It belonged to Batman, if Robin were to guess.

“My shirts were too small,” Nightwing said, answering Robin’s unvoiced question.

Had it shown on his face? He needed to work on his expressions, a mask alone wasn’t enough to hide them.

“Why is the kid still wearing his mask?”

His tone was rather accusing and Robin stood up straight, as if to built up his defenses in front of a mightier opponent, which Nightwing most certainly was. The twenty-one-year old _was_ much more skilled than Robin, but he probably shouldn’t be thought of as an opponent.

“I will explain in due time,” Alfred just said and began walking to the Cave’s elevators. “Follow me to the kitchen. I shall prepare an evening snack for the two of you while we talk.”

**X**

The drive up the elevator had been more than just a little awkward. The tension has been so thick, Robin could bite right through it. He kept sneaking glances at Nightwing, but the other vigilante just stared straight at the door, avoiding Robin as much as he could.

They walked back to the kitchen, and once there, Alfred immediately began to heat up water for tea and taking out bread for some snacks.

Nightwing - did Robin have to call him by his civilian name now too? - leaned against the wall, eyeing the proceedings suspiciously. Robin guessed it would piss him off immensely if he heard it, but his posture reminded Robin of Batman’s brooding.

Robin took a seat at one of the bar chairs around the counter in the middle of the room. He knew this discussion wouldn’t start until Alfred said the first word, so he could make himself comfortable in the meanwhile. The kettle let out a high pitched sound, announcing that the water was ready and Alfred poured the tea.

Tonight they were served peppermint tea. It was supposed to calm their nerves, Robin guessed. He immediately reached for the honey and put a spoonful of it in the water, making the beverage horribly sweet. He knew Alfred thought it was disgusting and dishonorable to sweeten the tea so much, but that was the way Robin had learnt he preferred it.

Nightwing, meanwhile, didn’t even make any attempts to reach for his cup, he just kept on observing until Alfred was finally finished and gave both of them a plate with sandwiches cut into bite sized pieces.

“Alfred,” Nightwing said impatiently. “You promised answers.”

“And you were asked to wait,” Alfred retorted, holing Nightwing’s gaze.

Only when the elder vigilante averted his eyes, did the butler continue speaking.

“Master Robin here found Batman during a patrol and helped him catch Scarecrow again.”

Nightwing frowned. “Shouldn’t Scarecrow be locked up-”

Seeing Alfred’s expression, he quickly shut up to let the man continue speaking.

“Robin helped Batman home where we, after interrogating him and inviting Miss Zatanna over for further examinations, we discovered that Robin is a Shade.”

“What’s a shade?”

“Magic,” Robin replied, finally feeling like it was his place to speak up. “I’m strong magic. Created to help out Batman until I’ve fulfilled my purpose.”

“And what is said purpose?” Nightwing questioned.

“A couple things.”

Robin took off his socks and put his right leg up on the chair next to him so Nightwing could see the sentences curling around his ankles.

“I’ve got a whole list of them and when I’ve fulfilled all, I’ll disappear again.”

Nightwing examined the writing, but didn’t dare touch Robin’s skin. When he was done, Robin put on his socks again.

“Are we sure he’s not dangerous?” Nightwing asked Alfred.

Wow. _Rude_. Of course, Robin was dangerous, but he wouldn’t ever harm anyone undeserving.

“Yes, Miss Zatanna confirmed it.”

“So all the kid is, is Robin in its most basic essence? That’s why he can’t take off the mask?”

Now Nightwing’s expression looked more like he was pitying Robin. What for Robin didn’t know. He was Gotham’s hero - or would be if Batman allowed him to leave the manor and go out on the streets - there was nothing greater to be. He’d been made for this.

Nevertheless, Robin shared his brightest smile with Nightwing, hoping it would encourage him to loosen up.

“I wouldn’t call myself basic, I did manage to hack into the Cave!” Robin bragged, drawing Alfred’s attention.

“That you did manage. I am wondering how you accomplished that as well.”

“Eeeh…” Robin trailed off, suddenly not feeling all that sure of himself.

Alfred didn’t day another word, but he also didn’t have to. Robin could see the demand for answers written all over his face.

“If you give me my laptop, I can show you,” Robin said, pointing at the black laptop lying innocently on the counter next to Alfred.

Wordlessly, the butler handed Robin the laptop. Robin turned it on and opened up the program he had used to hack into the Cave. He pulled up the first file and then hesitantly began explaining how he had broken into the Cave’s security. The more he spoke, the closer did Nightwing step. By the end of Robin’s explanation, he was pretty much leaning over Robin’s shoulder, nodding along with Robin’s explanation.

“And that’s it,” Robin said, ending his elaboration.

A quick glance at the time too Robin that almost an hour had passed.

“That’s impressive,” Nightwing said, looking honestly amazed. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”

As soon as the words had left Nightwing’s mouth though, his expression closed off again as if he had realized he’d just praised Robin.

Robin tried not to feel let down. He just had to make sure he won Nightwing’s favor in the future by showing off how useful he could be.

“I try,” Robin answered.

“That you did. Though, I believe we gave you this laptop for entertainment purposes and not for breaking into the Cave.”

Robin winced at Alfred’s sharp tone.

“I know I broke the rules, but I had to! Batman’s not doing well and he needs help!”

Next to him, sipping on his cold tea, Nightwing snorted. “Yeah, right. It would be easier to make Lex Luthor a Justice League worthy hero than get Bruce to admit he needs help. Trust me, I tried.”

Robin’s hands trembled in anger and frustration. He felt like a hurricane roared in his mind, pulling in all the restlessness Robin had experienced in the past weeks.

“But what else am I supposed to be doing then!?” Robin shouted. “I’m _nothing_ if I can’t help Batman!”

Nightwing’s eyes widened. “Woah, kid. That’s not-“

“True?” Robin interrupted Nightwing rudely. “But it is! You did read what I’m here for! And I can’t fulfill any of that if I’m not Robin and then I’ll be stuck here forever while Batman gets himself killed out there and it will be all my fault!”

Robin’s shoulders shook with badly suppressed tears. It just wasn’t fair. His first team up with Batman had gone so well and even the day spent with Bruce Wayne had been good and then everything had to come crashing down on him and Robin didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. Unable to look into Nightwing or Alfred’s faces, Robin quickly jumped off the chair and rushed out of the kitchen, Nightwing’s shouting following him.

Robin shut it all out and hid away in his room, his blanket pulled over his head.

It just wasn’t fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
I'm surprised how many expected Dick to be not just angry but like rage mode. I mean, Robin's not picking up on a lot of it because he is missing memories so to speak, but Dick is exhausted - at least that was what I'm aiming for. He's angry and tired of fighting and wants peace and then there's the magical kid Robin suddenly in front of him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got reminded that this is in fact a story i have written

Robin woke up again when somebody knocked gently against his door. Sleepily, he crawled out of his bed and walked over to the door. He had fallen asleep in yesterday’s clothes and given the bright sunlight already shining through the curtains, Robin must have slept through the night.

Tentatively he opened the door just a crack. He expected Alfred, not Nightwing to be standing there, looking quite nervously. He was dressed in civilian clothes and it painted a quite different picture than that of the serene vigilante of before. He seemed tired, vulnerable.

“Can I come in?”

Robin opened the door wordlessly and stepped aside to make space for him.

Nightwing entered the room and looked around. The room was a little more lived-in than it had been when Robin first saw it, but it still wasn’t anything special. Still, somehow he was embarrassed by it. Robin had been made to be striking and the room wasn’t special compared to all the others in the manor.

“It’s nice,” Nightwing said, walking up and down.

He was uncomfortable in Robin’s presence and stalling time on top of it. With a sigh, Robin sat down at his desk chair.

“Do you want anything in particular, Nightwing?”

Nightwing frowned at him, confusion sprinkled all over his face like his freckles.

“Night- you can call me Dick, if you want to.” Dick stopped talking, halted, and realization took hold of him. “You do know who I am, right?”

“Richard ‘Dick’ John Grayson,” Robin replied easily, the knowledge of the previous Robin’s identity as clear as if he’d downloaded it from the batcomputer. “Twenty-one-years old, Blüdhaven vigilante operating as  _ Nightwing _ . You’re also a founding member of the Teen Titans, a group of mostly teenagers to young adults, most of whom were former sidekicks of-“

“Woah, woah, kid, slow down.” Dick held up his hands in a placating manner, now grinning sheepishly. “I see you know your stuff. But yes, you can call me Dick if you want to.”

Robin rolled his eyes. “Well, I have to ‘know my stuff’ as Robin. Not that I’m doing much of that right now.”

Dick winced and, deflating like an old balloon, sat down on Robin‘s unmade bed.

“It’s not an easy time for Bruce- all of us really. Jason’s death… Nobody but that fucking clown is to blame, but Bruce still feels responsible.”

Dick’s eyes hardened and his voice edged on the corner of terrifyingly dangerous just after mentioning the Joker.

“But I’m not Jason!” Robin argued. “I’m not much of anyone but Robin, and Batman doesn’t even let me be that!”

Robin crossed his arms over his chest, already in a fool mood. The day had hardly started and he was already angry. Great. Dick observed him silently and Robin didn’t want to know what kind of impression he was making on the other vigilante.

“I might not be able to change Batman’s opinion on that, not given the terms we are on now, but I could use another set of eyes.”

Dick seemed to be hesitant saying those words, but Robin almost immediately began vibrating with energy.

“You want my help?” Robin asked, almost toppling his chair when he hurried to stand up.

Dick nodded seriously. “Yes, that’s why I came to the Cave originally. I’m tracking a ring of arms dealers and Batman has the better tech, but I think I’ll work just as fast with you helping out. So do you want to-“

“Yes!” Robin shouted. “Yes, yes, yes, please. I’ve been trying to solve old cold cases from the police, but without leaving the manor my investigations have been going super slowly and please let me help!”

Dick laughed and stood up. “Alright, alright. Down to the kitchen again then? Alfred's made breakfast and my files are downstairs. I suppose I have to get them from the Cave. You can change into something fresh in the meanwhile.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

As soon as Dick had left the room, Robin rushed to his wardrobe and quickly put on new clothes. A pair of sweatpants, gray this time, and a comfortable black and yellow Batman sweatshirt later, Robin was sitting at the kitchen table, munching on his cornflakes while Dick was sorting through his files.

Alfred had  _ tsk’ed  _ once in disapproval, but given that Robin wasn’t supposed to be in the Cave, they had to take their work upstairs.

Working alongside Nightwing was fun. The vigilante was perceptive and Robin admired how efficiently he worked, and how well he knew his city and its criminals. He gave Robin a quick rundown of what organization they were dealing with, how they operated and what had tipped Nightwing off.

Then the two of them started tracing the organization’s work back to Gotham, slowly dismantling them. After a couple hours had passed, they had connected the dealers with their buyers and began strategizing how to take them down.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Nightwing told Robin.

Robin smiled, this time with nothing holding him back. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself either, Nightwing.”

Nightwing messes up Robin’s hair delightfully, not even stopping when Robin shrieked.

“I told you, it’s Dick. If you’re gonna stick around a while longer, it’s only right you call me by my name.”

Robin pushed away the sheets of paper they had covered with mindmaps and leaned forward on the table, mustering Dick.

“Are  _ you _ also going to stick around?”

Dick scratched the back of his head, eyes darting to the family photo sitting on the window sill. It was a small picture in a wooden frame depicting Alfred, Bruce, Dick and Barbara somewhere in the gardens. Right next to it was another picture of Jason, probably only a few months after his adoption, in his school uniform, standing in the foyer together with Bruce. Bruce was beaming and Jason smiling shyly. Robin wouldn’t know what he’d do if Batman ever smiled at him like that, probably start crying.

“I think I’ll show up a little more often,” Dick finally answered. “The Titans- they’re fine. Blüdhaven, of course, still needs me, but she’s not called Gotham’s sister city for nothing. If Gotham gets worse, Blüdhaven does as well. It’s in my best interest to keep an eye on Gotham as well.”

Dick said  _ Gotham _ , but Robin guessed what he actually meant was  _ Batman _ .

“I’ll make sure everything works out here in your absence,” Robin promised. “Or, I’ll try my best at least.”

“That’s more than enough, trust me,” Dick smiled.

That was when Alfred entered the kitchen and with barely ten words, told them to pack up so he could prepare lunch. Quickly, Robin and Dick cleaned up and put the various sheets they had stolen from the arts and crafts room in different folders so Dick could take them home comfortably.

Dick put everything in his blue messenger back and set off to deposit it back in his room. Since he said nothing to Robin, Robin decided to follow him. The family wing looked just like it did a month ago, freshly cleaned with nothing out of place.

Dick opened the door to his room and let Robin inside. Now that Robin was seeing Dick’s room for a second time, he could see how well it fit Dick. The CD player in the corner was angled in such a way that you got the best sound and the stacks of CDs next to it were a wild mix of modern pop, the 80s and bands that used to be popular a couple of years ago.

The right wall of the otherwise blue room was covered by a large mural. The skyline of a city with a lot of air balloons swinging gently in the wind above.

“Where is that?” Robin asked.

“Huh?” Dick turned his head to look in the same direction as Robin. “Oh. That? That’s Paris about ten years back? It was the first big vacation Bruce and I took. We went to Europe and tracked through France. Nobody knew who we were, it was quite refreshing. Especially since I hadn’t gotten used to the fame that came with being Bruce Wayne’s ward yet. There was a tournament or so near Paris and the sky was full of the balloons. It was the highlight of the vacation for me. And if not for the drug-dealing ring we accidentally shattered, I think it would have been Bruce’s as well.”

Robin, who had sat down on the bed, did a double-take at hearing about Dick and Bruce's adventure.

“You  _ accidentally _ took down a drug-dealing ring? How do you even do that?”

Dick laughed and sat down on the ground, leaning against his bookshelves. “Okay, so it’s probably not even that funny, but you know how Bruce has a sixth sense for crime? So we’re walking down that beautiful alley and Bruce just freezes and squints at some shady dudes in one corner…”

Dick latched onto the story, narrating in great detail Robin and Batman’s adventure in Europe. And because he kept making references to other missions and the like, Dick kept going off track and told Robin more and more stories.

The longer he talked, the happier did Dick seem to become, and Robin too was pulled in by his enthusiasm. Some of these stories Robin knew, but the more he learned, the more did he realize that factual knowledge couldn’t compare to Dick’s vibrant description of the time Batman and Robin saved the holidays. The life Dick had lived was so colorful and fantastic - Robin wanted something like that for himself.

He could do without taking a swim in the sewers, but he’d give everything for Batman to look at him with the same fond exasperation Dick talked of.

“And that’s the reason why Bruce and I shared a hotel room,” Dick ended his monologue. “Talking rooms - is there a reason we relocated to the guest wing?”

Robin shrugged. “I think that’s Alfred’s doing. Bruce wasn’t sleeping well here.”

“Or at all?” Dick guessed with a sigh. “It’s no surprise with Jason’s room next door.”

“I found him in there in my first week,” Robin blurted out. “I don’t know what he was doing. He was just sitting on the ground and I had no idea how to act!”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Dick said. “Everybody grieves in a different way.”

Robin knew that Dick was trying to reassure him, but his words weren’t helping. Robin was well aware of how grief worked, it was part of their job and so he knew it, but he still couldn’t do anything to support Batman because he kept locking Robin out.

“But I still want to help him and I can’t because he won’t even let me come near him.”

“I promise I’ll talk to him when he gets him tonight. Maybe I can get Bruce to slow down a little. We’re not as close as we used to be, but maybe I can improve the situation a little.”

“And what should I do in the meantime?”

Dick reached up and pulled a book out of his shelf. Easily, he threw it at Robin. “Live a little.”

Robin caught the book and turned it around so he could read the cover.  _ Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. _

The book looked rather old and worn. A quick flip through revealed pages covered in all kinds of ink and markers.

“What’s this?” Robin asked.

“The first Harry Potter book,” Dick answered. “I had to read it for class a couple years back and took a lot of notes in it. Kids your age are supposed to like it-”

“You mean one month going on one decade?” Robin replied snarkily, but Dick didn’t even bother to reply to that.

“-and even beyond that. It’s just a fun book to read. Try to broaden your horizon a little further away from  _ Robin  _ or you’ll go mad.”

Dick fell silent and crossed his arms in front of his chest as he tilted his head slightly. He was observing Robin - no, the mask Robin couldn’t take off.

“And we need to do something about that too. You can’t keep running around in the house with a mask and without a name.”

Robin just rolled his eyes. He supposed this was where he differed from regular humans. Robin was all he was and all he ought to be. He didn’t need to broaden his horizon.

“I have a name! I already told you that! It’s Robin.”

“Yeah, no.” Dick shook his head. “Robin is a  _ title _ . You need a name.”

Robin didn’t get it. Maybe this was another one of these civilian life things he was supposed to follow now? It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, the others just didn’t understand that Robin was all he would ever be and all he was supposed to be. It was fine, he didn’t mind if he would actually get to do his job.

“I’m fine without, really,” Robin insisted.

From Dick’s sigh, Robin deduced that he didn’t believe him, but it wasn’t like this discussion would go anywhere anytime soon.

“Just try it, alright? You don’t just have vigilantism in your DNA.”

Robin was going to argue that he very much did, going by the components that constructed his DNA and its donors, but decided against it in the last second. If Dick was too stubborn to see it, Robin would just have to accept it and move on. At least he’d have some more entertainment for the next weeks.

“Thanks for the book,” Robin said instead.

Dick smiled. “No problem. You can tell me what you thought of it when you’ve read it. I’m curious to hear your thoughts on it. Bruce would always try to overinterpret the book instead of just enjoying it.”

Robin blinked.

“How do you just enjoy it?”

Dick began to laugh and threw back his head so far, that it knocked against his bookshelf, but even the sudden pain from that didn’t seem to deter him.

“I’m serious!” Robin said, his cheeks flushed red. “Explain!”

But Dick kept on laughing, bright and joyful.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
I have written 12 chapters so far and I will update weekly. Hopefully I’ll have finished writing by the end of January!  
I’d love to hear what you think!


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